A Loose Connection
by Tearle
Summary: A spy looking out for himself, a victim still adjusting to life after torture, and the daughter that binds them. AU, Post-Hogwarts, Pre-Final Battle.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: This will be the only one I do. It applies to all the chapters following this one. The characters and locations belong to JK Rowling and whomever she has contracts with.

**Author's Note**: This will be the only AN I do as well. I will respond to comments via PM, unless you have your PMs turned off, in which case you'll not be receiving a response. This story is completed and I will upload one chapter every Friday until it's done. I started writing it as a simple 2k work oneshot...and it turned into this...

**A Loose Connection**  
>Chapter 1<br>By: J. Green

He remained calm, standing aloof despite his arms being chained above his head, stretching him uncomfortably. He wasn't sure where his wand was, but he couldn't afford to worry about that at the moment.

"I wonder what Granger would think about this treatment of me, Weasel," he couldn't resist the taunt, even in this precarious situation. He was a Malfoy after all.

A jeering laugh echoed against stone walls. "Don't you know? Hermione's the one who arranged your lovely accommodations. And besides, it's Mrs. Weasley now."

"Oh?" he responded with a sneer. "It seems _Mrs. Weasley_ was less than forthcoming during our little…trysts in London." He was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath. The redhead always did wear his emotions on his sleeve. He began to laugh harshly, almost hysterically when the fist connected with his stomach. "You hit like a girl, Weasel-face. Wait, no, that's an insult to _Mrs. Weasley_. You hit like Potter."

This time, there was no fist, only a shouted word that cut off his air supply. It was difficult to remain calm when black spots began to swim in front of his eyes. He tried to focus on Weasley, tried to keep his thoughts together and keep himself conscious, when suddenly he was able to breathe again. He did not take huge gulps of air in, but rather kept a steady in-out as if there had been no interruption of his air supply at all. Slowly, one by one, the spots disappeared.

"You're lying." He smirked at that. Oh how he loved to have the upper hand, even if it wasn't physically.

"You don't sound as if you believe yourself. Trouble in paradise?" Once again, the fist connected with his abdomen. "Careful there, Weasel, you might accidently hit _Mrs. Weasley's_ favorite bits." The fists flew without abandon, and all Draco could do was laugh. He and Granger hadn't actually done anything; in fact, their meetings were far from anything remotely friendly, and it wouldn't surprise him if she had indeed arranged for him to be chained in a dungeon at the mercy of her illustrious _husband_.

In truth, he felt rather betrayed. She _hadn't_ told him she was married, allowing him to call her by her former surname as he had in their schooldays. While it didn't truly affect the matters they had discussed or the current situation he was in, he had always been completely honest with her, holding nothing back, while she had chosen to hide things. It bothered him, and it bothered him that it bothered him.

When Weasley had finished, nursing his hands and glaring at him as if it was his fault, Draco merely sneered back. "Do you feel better? Like a big badass? Beating on a defenseless, chained man…you're no better than a filthy Death Eater." With that, he spit some of the blood that had been pooling in his mouth from the attack at the boy, hitting him squarely in the face.

As his childhood nemesis closed and locked the door to his cell, he finally allowed himself to slump against the wall, the chains now supporting him and cutting into his wrists painfully. He had come here in good faith, based on the promise of protection, should the need ever arise, in exchange for information. While he didn't much like playing the spy, he had been giving the information to Granger for months now, tired of bowing down to someone of inferior blood and much more interested in saving his own skin than any paltry power Voldemort could give him.

It seemed he had made the wrong choice. He would know what to do and how to act if he had been cornered by the Dark Lord for his espionage. He would be in control of himself. He had not expected to be jumped and chained here, not with the Order. They had seemed much more "ask questions first, act later." And so now, here he was, dirty, cold, wandless…and at the mercy of people whose actions he couldn't even begin to guess.

In a word, he was screwed.

* * *

><p>Hermione hummed an old tune from her Muggle childhood as she magically strung garland on their oversized Fir tree. This had been a rough year at Order Headquarters, with the death count being higher than any of them originally imagined. Still, they had not lost hope and Voldemort was losing power every day because of their efforts. It was only a matter of time; with each death caused by Death Eaters, a whole family of supporters joined the Light – the other side could not make the same claim.<p>

And so it was with a light heart that she was decorating Grimmauld Place from top to bottom for the coming holidays, with the tree being the last on her list. She had a mission tonight, so she couldn't quite give it the care she desired, but she knew it would be appreciated by all anyway. A splash of gold streamers shot from her wand just as she heard the door open behind her.

"Still at it, huh? The halls look great."

She smiled, but didn't turn around. "Welcome home, Harry."

"I know just the thing this tree needs," he stated when she stepped back to inspect her work. With a flick of his wand, enchanted snow began to drop from the ceiling, lightly dusting the branches in front of them. She laughed and stuck her hand out to catch a few of the flakes, her laughter growing as they passed right through her hand.

"Your illusion spells are getting stronger!"

"Just watch!" he turned her to face him before flicking his wand again, this time at himself. His hair turned red and long, his face shortened and became dusted with freckles, and his green eyes turned a startling shade of blue. When two breasts threatened to pop out of his shirt, he began laughing, and instantly snapped back into himself. Hermione stared at him with her mouth hanging open. "I can only do Ginny, and not for very long, so it's not exactly the most useful illusionary charm."

She closed her mouth and smirked, "So you can only do Ginny? Is it from the hours of staring longingly in her direction while she ignores you?"

"She's not ignoring me, she's just busy," Harry pouted.

Hermione threw her arms around his neck and she laughed, "Oh Harry Potter, will you just suck it up and tell her you love her already? You know that's the only reason she ignores you." He blushed a harsh shade of red just as the door opened so quickly it slammed into the opposing wall, causing the friends to jump.

When all they saw was Ron, back from a mission that had kept him away for a few days, so infuriated that flames of anger almost seemed to leap off his body, they lowered their wands from the defensive position and sighed. Ron always seemed to be angry these days, ever since…well, she tried not to think about that too often.

"Happy almost Christmas, Ron. Do you like the tree?" She said no more when he turned his glare to her. Usually his eyes softened when they fell on her, but not this time, and she couldn't for the life of her figure out why. Harry seemed to sense something was amiss as well, and casually stepped slightly in front of her as if he was just moving forward to greet Ron.

With a frenzied _Reducto!_, Ron exploded Hermione's tree into millions of pieces. Several shards of glass from the ornaments caught her in the face, leaving small trails of blood in their wake. She didn't even bother to hide her tears as she turned back to him, infuriated. His wand arm had dropped back to his side, and all the anger had drained from him as he stood there in shock at what he had done.

Harry was shouting furiously, but Hermione just stared at him, waiting her turn. When it appeared Harry had run out of steam, she said in a deadly quiet voice, "I hope your memory has gotten better, _Ronald_. It better look exactly as it did by the time I get back."

Instead of turning him to a quivering bowl of jelly, like they normally would, her words only seemed to bring some of the fire back to him. "And just where do you think you're going?"

"I have a mission," she stated coolly, before stepping out of the room without a backwards glance. Even when Ron shouted after her that she didn't have a bloody mission and she needed to stop lying to him, she continued walking, pulling on her cloak and heading towards her daughter's room to say goodbye.

* * *

><p>He wasn't sure how much longer he could last. He hadn't been fed once since being thrown in here, and his legs were refusing to support him. His beautiful pure blood was running down his wrists with every movement, but he could no longer feel the pain in his numb arms. No one had come to even check on him, to make sure he was here and alive, since Weasley had left. It was as if he had been forgotten.<p>

He thought for sure that at least _she_ would've come to see him, if only to explain her betrayal or laugh in his face about his misplaced trust. That bloody bint. That stupid, mudblooded bint. He'd love to wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze until she turned purple. If he could feel his hands, that is.

Black spots began to dance in front of his eyes again, as they had time and time again since Weasley abandoned him. He was tired of trying to stay conscious. Tired of being hungry. Tired of not being able to feel his hands. And so, he let the blackness take him over, not sure if he hoped it was the last time or not.

* * *

><p>He hadn't been there again, and she was worried. She didn't want to worry about him, but she couldn't help herself. He had missed meetings before, and oftentimes without explanation, but never more than one. She never worried about it, because there he would be the next time, that stupid smirk on his face and a <em>Did you miss me?<em> on his lips. It usually took everything in her to not smack him across his jaw and wipe the expression off his face, opting instead to stare at him coolly and get down to business as if he hadn't spoken at all.

But this was the third missed meeting. And Hermione was worried. She calmly hung her cloak on the rack by the door, trying hard not to make any noise and wake Mrs. Black, and consequently the household. She tiptoed past the staircase and towards the kitchen, where she could hear soft murmurs behind the closed door.

Harry would be waiting up for her, she knew, but she wondered who else was there. These missions were of utmost secrecy, the nature of them only known to Harry and Moody, and Moody was currently in France dealing with his own mission. She knocked, so as not to surprise anyone, and opened the door only a crack to show the occupants of the kitchen who it was.

"Come in, Hermione." Harry's voice sounded strained, almost defeated, as if he was dreading telling her something. Her eyes quickly moved past him, though, and settled on the smug looking redhead leaning by the fire.

"Ronald. I assume my tree has been repaired?"

"That's not important right now," Harry stopped any reply Ron might have given her. "Ron has some…news for you, Hermione. I'm not sure if it's good or bad, or if you should even hear it, but I don't like keeping things from you."

She leaned against the doorframe and waited. When it seemed he had nothing else to say, she prompted, "Well?"

Ron's smug face took on an almost sinister look as he said, "I caught him, Hermione. I caught him and I'm going to make him pay for what he did to you."

She felt as though everything had been drained from her as she slowly righted herself, leaving a hand on the doorframe for support. She must've looked a fright, because Harry immediately stood up and hurried over to her, looking as if he was going to catch her if she fell. "W-what did you say?"

"Maybe you should sit down," Harry said as he wrapped his arm around her waist. Her legs gave out at that moment, and he quickly used his other arm to steady her, holding her in a hug.

"I caught that bloody git Malfoy and I'm going to make sure he knows exactly how you felt when he tortured you." Unable to hold on any longer, she allowed his words to take the consciousness away from her.

* * *

><p>He saw her face again, mocking him. The sneer that graced her lips was a far cry from the blank expression she normally maintained during their meetings. He wished he could see that blankness again. He craved her flashing eyes that gave away her emotions rather than this cold look facing him now.<p>

His hysterical laughter filled the walls of the dungeon. "Back again to view your handiwork, mudblood?"

With that word and a soft touch against his wrist, the haziness on the edges of his vision cleared and the sneering, cold face was replaced by soft features and sad eyes.

"Remove these shackles at once, Ronald."

"Granger? It's really you?" He wasn't happy with the weak croak of his voice, but he was proud of himself for not crying out as one of her fingers brushed against a cut on his wrist.

Brown eyes locked with grey, the apology evident in their depths. This was real; this wasn't his imagination, a hunger-induced hallucination. She was really in front of him, saving him from this nightmare, apparently innocent of the blame Weasley had assigned to her. And he still wanted to kill her.

As the bindings on his wrists gave way, he slumped forward in her arms, angry for being unable to support himself. It was a testament to how much weight he had lost that she was able to hold him up with no evident effort.

Resting against her shoulder, his dry, cracked lips brushing the shell of her ear in a mockery of a lover's whisper, he stated simply, "So much for your empty promises, eh, _Mrs. Weasley_?" Seconds later, the darkness overcame him.

* * *

><p>She was livid. That Ron had the <em>audacity<em> to take a prisoner, abuse him, and then not feed him for days angered her. The fact that it was Malfoy, someone she had made promises of protection to in exchange for information, information that had prevented numerous deaths at the risk of his own, infuriated her. But the crowning glory, the one thing that could very well keep her from speaking to the redheaded pikey again, was the fact that he had told Malfoy they were married. A lie that, for numerous reasons, only complicated matters.

She was mad, and feeling guilty, and for this reason, was currently playing nursemaid to Malfoy's patient. His gaunt form frightened her, and so once she had confirmed he was settled and comfortable in a makeshift hospital cot set up in the library, she had immediately begun brewing a strengthening potion. She was afraid to give him even the simplest broth until she was sure his stomach wouldn't immediately expel it, putting his already fragile state at risk. Not that it mattered too greatly as he was still passed out. She would pour her brew down his unconscious throat if she had to. Anything to be rid of this overwhelming guilt.

Every hour, on the hour, Hermione dispensed the potion into his mouth, keeping watch on his vital signs and tracking them in her log. When she finally determined that his breath had evened out, and his once sluggish heartbeat had regulated, she risked waking him up magically.

As soon as the spell left her lips, his eyes snapped open and focused on her. "How long?" he asked her with a glare.

"You were down there for approximately eight days, I knew for 45 minutes that you were there before releasing you, 44 of which were spent unconscious from the shock, and you've been here for," she paused as she checked the hourglass on the mantel over the fireplace, "14 hours." She hadn't been positive as to what exactly he was asking her, so had given her usual too-detailed answer.

His eyes were still narrowed accusingly. She sighed and handed him a small bowl of chicken broth she had kept warm with a simple heating spell. His glare moved from her to the bowl, as if disgusted by its mere presence in front of him. Without warning, he flung the bowl to the wood floor, shattering it and causing her to jump in surprise at his childish outburst.

"Bring me some kippers," he said petulantly.

"Absolutely not! You haven't had food for _days_, Malfoy, your stomach can't handle it, especially oily fish!"

"Bring me. Some kippers."

"I will not. I may have been able to put some weight back onto your body with a modified strengthening potion, but you are _far_ from healthy," she argued. When he did nothing more than glare at her with almost pure loathing, the guilt hit her again in full force and she bent to his will. She summoned Dobby with a snap of her fingers.

When he was tucking into the steaming plate in front of him with abandon, she couldn't help but snap out, "When it disagrees with you, don't come crying to me." And when, not minutes later, he was retching the contents of his stomach into a bin she had conjured and held to his mouth, she couldn't help but smirk. Unconsciously, she began stroking his hair as she stared at the far wall, listening to Malfoy dry heave over the bin.

When he had finished, he weakly slapped her hand away from his head, saying, "I don't need you to mother me, Granger." With no response, she stood and scourgified the bucket before returning to her chair against the wall.

Feebly, Malfoy fell back against his pillows and fell asleep.

* * *

><p>When he was awake again, his eyes immediately went to the chair still occupied by Granger. How long had she been there? Her rumpled clothing and haggard face led him to believe she had yet to leave his side. He couldn't remember if she was wearing the same clothing as before, simply because he hadn't bothered to pay attention earlier, being hungry and sick and weak and all.<p>

He sneered at her frizzy brown hair and muggle clothing, not caring that she was taking care of him. He wouldn't be in this position in the first place if it wasn't for her. Attending to his every whim was merely what she deserved. Suddenly, her body jumped as if she had been shocked and she opened her bleary eyes in the direction of the fireplace. He closed his eyes, feigning sleep to see what she would do.

He listened as she rose from her chair and quietly stepped over to him. He felt her cool hand brush away some hair that had fallen across his forehead before she murmured a spell and passed her wand over his inert form. Draco risked a peek through his eyelashes when he heard a slight scratching sound and was unsurprised to see her scribbling something in a booklet of parchment. After making her notations, she walked back to her chair.

She repeated this action every hour for three hours, somehow being shocked awake each time. Finally, unable to pretend sleep anymore, he watched her move towards him again the fourth hour with his eyes wide open.

"How long?" he asked for a second time, not elaborating any more this time than he did before. Granger was a smart girl, she could figure out what he meant.

"I'd say you've been in here for about four days," came the quiet response.

"Four _days_? Have you left at _all_, Granger?" Her lack of reply was answer enough. She kept her eyes focused on her wand as she once again checked and recorded his vital signs. He was shocked. She had watched over him for four days, only catching an hour of sleep at a time. Why? Surely there was someone else who could've switched with her, if only to let her sleep. Where was the rest of this glorious, kindhearted Order she always spoke so highly of?

She began to step away, back towards her post, when he reached out and grabbed her arm. It was when her eyes finally met his that all hell broke loose.

With a slam, the library doors swung open and a little girl came running into the room, obviously intent on reaching the woman by his side. Granger's face filled with horror as she watched the child make the trek across the throw rugs. She was shortly followed by a tall redhead Draco immediately recognized as Ginny Weasley. She wore a matching face of horror.

"Mummy, why have you been hiding in here? Come play with me!" At the little girl's petulant whine, he finally focused his attention on her. Soft, pale blonde hair adorned a sharp featured face that was almost overpowered by wide, grey steel eyes. The eye shape was all Granger, as well as the pudgy shape of her body. But everything else, much to his shock and dismay, screamed Malfoy.


	2. Chapter 2

**A Loose Connection  
><strong>Chapter 2**  
><strong>By: J. Green

"Come, Arianna."

"No! Play more." Malfoy continued to bounce the little girl on his knee while Hermione glared at him.

"You shouldn't indulge her. You're still recovering." She was desperate to get Arianna away and out of the room. She was desperate to be anywhere but here, watching him act in a way she never imagined him. He was Malfoy: cold and unfeeling, often cruel for no reason than to show superiority over others. How long would it be before he became bored with the girl and cast her aside like so much trash? She could not afford having Arianna grow attached to him; she didn't handle change well.

"I believe I shall play with _my daughter_ if I so choose." Her breath caught in her throat. She knew as well as he did that Arianna was not his. Despite the fact that she had thrown herself into his lap the moment she saw him.

"Arianna," she tried again, fusing her displeasure with Malfoy into her tone. Her daughter recognized the tone of voice and immediately hopped down from his lap, ashamed. Hermione felt guilty, but pleased that her daughter was at last minding her. "Ginny, if you will take her to her room, please. It's time for her nap."

Her daughter hung her head low and she slowly made her way to the door. Unable to bear the guilt of speaking harshly to her, Hermione reached out her hand as the girl passed, and brushed her silken blonde hair back. Arianna looked up with hopeful grey eyes into the smiling face of her mother and knew that everything was alright.

He didn't wait long after the doors closed behind the woman and child before speaking. "Arianna is a beautiful name."

"I thought so as well."

"How old is she?"

"Three."

"...am I to continue to expect these dead end answers and no explanation?"

She slid her eyes from the door to his bed, but still didn't bring them to his. "What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know, Granger! Anything! I come to you for help, only to be greeted by Weasley's fists and nearly _killed_. I wake up to you nursing me back to health and a three year old girl who looks _just like me_ calling you mother. I don't know if I'm just delusional right now, or if all this is really bloody happening."

She sighed, knowing full well that she owed him something. Since she didn't know the details about his capture and Ron's subsequent torture, she went with what she knew – and what was hardest for her to relive.

"I was out on a routine mission. Nothing big, just a quick pass through Knockturn to see if there were any meetings we weren't aware of. I didn't even see it coming. I was so stupid; I should've been paying more attention!" She paused, the memory causing her self-loathing to trigger again. Everything that had happened was her fault. It was _she_ who insisted she could handle the scouting mission alone, _she _who had been silly enough to leave Harry's invisibility cloak behind, thinking her disillusionment charms would be enough, _she_ who had been distracted by what was in front of her. When the stunning spell hit her square in the back, she hadn't even been aware that there was someone behind her.

"When I came to, I was in some sort of dungeon," his sharp intake of breath indicated that he knew exactly where she was talking about, so she didn't go into details. "There were... I... I don't know how many of them there were, they were all in black. There could have been five or five hundred, I just don't know."

She could feel his eyes on her and she felt unclean. For all she knew, he had been there, looming over her in his Death Eater cloak and mask. He could already know what happened next, and she didn't know what to say to him. "Well, get on with it then. What happened?" She looked up from his sheets to his face at this harsh entreaty. He wasn't mocking her, but his face was guarded, and his whole body was tense, as if braced for what she was going to say next.

"Voldemort was there. H-he ordered your father to..." She couldn't go on and she hid her face in her hands, peeking at him through the cracks in her fingers.

"My father is a lot of things, Granger, but he is not a rapist." His body was vibrating with anger at her words.

She lifted her head. "If it makes you feel better, I'm pretty sure it was a punishment."

His harsh bark of cold laughter filled the room before his next words, "If it makes me feel better? You're telling me that my father, who has _never_ touched a woman other than my mother since their marriage, raped you. And it's supposed to make me feel better because _hey_, it's not like he wanted to."

"He...he was gentle. I mean, he wasn't _gentle_ by any means, but he cast some sort of numbing spell wandlessly right before –"

"ENOUGH. Merlin, that's enough. I get the picture." He leaned back against his pillows and closed his eyes. "Leave."

"No."

His eyes snapped open, sparking with his anger. "Leave. Now." His words came out biting, and if they had been a whip, they would have flayed her skin.

"I cannot, in good conscience, leave you," she hesitated a moment, "especially since my story isn't done."

"Oh, this just gets better and better, doesn't it?"

"You must have already guessed some of it, you greasy pillock! Calling her your daughter in front of Ginny when you know _full well_ nothing has ever happened between us!"

With her words, a smirk bloomed full force onto his face. "Yes, I guessed. Plus it helped with the story I told the Weasel of our romps in London."

"You did _what!_ No wonder Ron was so mad all the time! Damn you, Malfoy, you've made the past two weeks _unbearable_ for me."

"Oh, I'm sorry, the Weasel has been acting _exactly_ as he always has while I've been rotting away in some hidden Order dungeon without food or water, but yes, _your_ time has been unbearable."

"You're just going to milk this for all it's worth, aren't you? Not a thought to the fact that I haven't left your side to even see my daughter."

"I didn't _ask_ you to do that, Granger. In fact, I do believe I've asked you to _leave_."

"I _can't_!" she cried, petulantly, exhausted from her days of little sleep and the stress of watching over someone she felt responsible for. "Not until you agree," she whimpered as she collapsed in the chair by the wall.

"I don't even know what I'm agreeing to; you've explained nothing."

She watched the door with widened eyes, as if afraid of someone else coming through the door and mucking all her plans up. Hesitantly, she began again, "I don't even know how I escaped. Or if I escaped. I just...woke up, here in the Headquarters, with Harry and Ron and Ginny all standing watch over me. They claim there was no rescue mission, that they just found me unconscious in the streets of Diagon Alley. My vocal chords were so damaged from the torture, I couldn't speak for about a week. By the time I could, I knew I was pregnant.

"I didn't...I didn't want them to go after your father. He had been kinder than I've ever known him to be. I wouldn't be surprised if it was _his_ doing that I was put on the streets to be found. I hoped and hoped that maybe the baby would look like me more than anything, so it wouldn't be an issue. So I told them I didn't remember anything."

She looked over at Malfoy before continuing, "As you've seen, Arianna looks almost nothing like me. It was obvious the moment she left my body that someone in _your_ family had done this to me. I didn't claim it was you, but when they came to that conclusion on their own, with the belief that your father would never sully himself with a mudblood, I didn't argue."

"Yes, I can see why your _husband_," the word came off his tongue like poison, "would insist on beating me to a pulp while I'm defenseless. I wouldn't much like to see my wife's rapist and torturer looking for sanctuary." Hermione cringed at this statement.

"You're married?"

"Well, we're not exactly on the correct terms to discuss something like that, now are we _Mrs. Weasley_?"

Her gaze narrowed before she stated, "No, I guess we're not. I'd just like to know if Arianna has any fake brothers and sisters I should know about."

"I haven't agreed to play the part of your rapist."

The slow smirk that grew on her lips made him shiver. "Oh? But haven't you? I do believe you just called her your daughter in front of a very prominent and important member of the Order. Not to mention the biggest gossip."

She almost laughed when she saw the realization hit his eyes, although his face remained impassive. She once again asked the question currently plaguing her mind, "Are you married?"

"Why is that so important?" he spat at her, angry to be caught in her web of lies, with him painted up to look like the villainous spider.

"I need to know if we should locate her and get her to a safe place as well, Malfoy. I promised you protection, and it wasn't just for you, it was for anyone important in your life." She could tell immediately, with the almost imperceptible slumping of his shoulders, that he was not, or if he had been, it had ended badly.

"No, I'm not married. And there are no _other_ children."

"Me neither, on both counts, since we're sharing," she whispered as she stood up and approached the exit. When he said nothing further to her, she left the room.

* * *

><p><em>So she's not married to the Weasel<em>, Draco thought to himself, _I should've known. He may be pureblooded, but he's still beneath her._ His infamous smirk lit his face as he thought of the new and fabulous tortures he could put the lying redhead through. Oh, this was indeed Christmas come early.

His body was still stiff from his time in the dungeon and lying prone in this bed, and his rebellious stomach was aching. It didn't help that his thoughts were swimming with images of his father, _his father_, raping the mudblood. He had always managed to get out of those things before, why had he suddenly been unable to now? His father loved his mother completely.

Granger had mentioned something. He wracked his brain, trying to remember exactly what she had said. Something about an order? A punishment? Yes, if his father had been in a dungeon full of Death Eaters, he could not have disobeyed a direct order from that filthy halfblooded sham of a leader. He was positive Voldemort had somehow ensured that this information got back to his mother. And this was one of the reasons he wanted out. Who purposely destroys a relationship between one of his most loyal followers and his wife? To find out _this_ was the reason his home had been so cold these last few years...

It was all too much to think about, and his pain only made it worse. He couldn't very well call Granger back in after he'd just ordered her out. He looked over the various potion bottles on the table by her chair, trying to see if he could determine which one would take away his pain. Sighing loudly, although no one could hear him, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He didn't want to admit it, even to himself, but seeing and playing with Arianna, however shortly, had drained him of what little energy he had.

He had been through worse, he knew, but that didn't change the difficulty of his current challenge of crossing the room. He stood, firmly and without indecision, only to be hit with a wave of nausea. He waited a moment for the room to stop spinning before working his way over to the table slowly, in a shuffling manner.

Draco steadied himself with one hand on the wall, and brought his other one up to rifle through the various stoppered bottles sitting before him. Nothing was labeled and nothing was familiar. He uncorked a few, hoping to identify one or another by smell. Nothing. _Damn her_, he thought, _damn her and her bloody brainy ways._ It was obvious Granger had been concocting potions of her own, since it wasn't like anyone else in the Order was intelligent enough to do so. At least, not any of the members _he_ knew anyway.

In a fit of rage, he made to brush the lot onto the floor in a pile of glass and goo. However, once his arm was raised to make the angry sweep, a shouted "No!" sounded from the direction of the library entrance. He was tempted to do it anyway before deciding that he wasn't really sure what the aftereffects of mixing these various unfamiliar potions together would be. And he preferred to live. And stay clean.

Still supporting himself with one hand, he turned his head slowly, eyeing the Weasley chit from earlier. "And why not?" he asked petulantly, knowing full well he had no intention of committing the action at this point.

"Hermione worked hard on those after she got you stable, just to save your sorry arse. I can only imagine _why_ she would do such a thing, you ungrateful berk, but she must have had her reasons. Now, if you will return to your bed and tell me exactly _what_ you were doing out of it in the first place, I _might_ choose to help you," she paused before stating, "But only because Hermione asked me to."

He grumbled, but pushed himself off the wall and moved towards his cot, eager to get some sort of painkiller as quickly as possible. He could feel the blue eyes of the littlest Weasley boring into his back, and did his best to walk as gracefully as he possibly could. He couldn't appear weak in front of these people. He had to retain power. All his effort was for naught when he tripped over his own foot and sprawled himself on the floor a mere two steps from his current prison. The munter didn't even make a move to help him, despite his obvious struggle in lifting himself from the floor. The passing thought crossed his mind that Granger certainly would've helped him up, probably would've dropped everything to run over to him, in fact. It made him hate her even more. And the Weaselette.

When he had finally managed to hoist himself onto his cot, with its scratchy sheets and stiff pillows, he looked at the girl with narrowed eyes and demanded she bring him something for his pain at once.

"Oh, I have something for your pain alright," she mumbled just loud enough for him to hear. She paused to look over the various potions he had just been about to destroy. The fact that her hand was hesitant as she reached for one of the bottles worried him. Surely she wouldn't poison him...would she? No, he was confident that Granger had given her proper and thorough instructions on what potions did what. It was just her way.

She approached him with a bottle of orange liquid, thin enough that it sloshed with every step she took and he could see through it clearly. It vaguely triggered something in the back of his mind, but he couldn't quite grasp the thread of thought before it slipped away. She made to hand it to him, but he was feeling irritable and wanted her to do as much work as possible, so he simply folded his arms across his chest. Her eyes flashed with anger before she moved the flask to his lips and poured a healthy amount down his throat.

The reaction was immediate. He felt the potion burn down his throat and spread like fire to his limbs. If he hadn't been staring down at his body in horror, he would've thought he _was_ on fire, with his skin melting into puddles and his bones charred and exposed. He looked up at the redhead by his bedside, into her shocked blue eyes, and noticed her lips were moving rapidly as if she was speaking to him. He couldn't hear her over the ringing in his ears and the feeling of intense pain coursing through his veins. He could feel his body violently thrashing and tried to shake his head to clear the ringing.

His vision was just beginning to cloud over when he saw the library doors slam open and a fast moving object barreling straight for him. The blur launched itself onto his bed and into his lap. It wasn't until he felt cool hands against his face, holding him in place, forcing him to stare at her, that he even realized it was Granger. He noticed that her hands were always cool, and for once he was grateful for it. Her hands were now smoothing over his face and his vision was clearing as he focused on her muddy brown eyes. She looked slightly cross as she reached into the wand holster on her leg and waved a spell at her throat.

"Malfoy! Stop that incessant screaming at once!" her booming voice echoed in his head. He was screaming? He closed the mouth he hadn't even realized was open, and the ringing in his ears stopped. He could not, however, control the thrashing of his body, threatening to unseat the woman straddling his lap more than once. Removing the spell from her throat, she returned her wand to the holster and her hand to his face. In response, his hands untangled themselves from the tight grasp of the sheet beside him and latched onto her wrists in a bruising hold. "I am going to help you. I know the pain is nearly unbearable, but I will make it stop," she stated softly, unaffected by his death grip on her.

_Well don't just sit there!_ he wanted to scream at her. As if she could sense what he wanted to say, the corner of her lips quirked up in amusement before she turned to the redhead and silenced her relentless, watery apologies with a look. She muttered some instructions quickly, and the younger woman immediately bustled to the other side of the room, her nerves causing her to almost knock over a few of the vials.

When she had the requested bottle in her hands, she swiftly returned to Granger's side. With a nod in his direction, she indicated that Weasley should be the one to administer the potion. Jerking out of her grasp, he moved his head away, keeping his jaw tightly clenched to so as not to yell out anymore. There was no way he was going to let the girl who had done this to him give him something else.

Granger rolled her eyes before recapturing his face with a gentle hold, somehow knowing he wouldn't struggle again. "It's a sleeping draught, trust me. I won't let anything else harm you." Without waiting for his response, she forced her thumbs against his jaw in a way that made him open his mouth and the other woman hurriedly poured the brew in. As the world faded into black, the last thing he saw was Granger's worried eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**A Loose Connection**  
>Chapter 3<br>by: J. Green

She laughed as Arianna pranced around the kitchen with her new baby doll, introducing her to the other Order members celebrating Christmas at Headquarters instead of their homes for one reason or another. Hermione had decided to move the tree in here when she set up Malfoy in the library; this was where they held most of their meetings anyway.

Hermione had requested no gifts for herself, telling her friends that she wanted Arianna to have the Christmas she wasn't able to give her by herself. As a result, her daughter had been lavished with more gifts than she needed, new robes, toys and books galore, a child's racing broom from Harry, and the doll she was currently enamored with from the Weasley family. She had gotten Arianna a new set of hair ribbons, enchanted to sparkle every time she moved her head.

She heard the door behind her open and felt someone's presence at her back. She didn't need to turn around to see who it was; the scent she had come to associate with him drifted across her nose the moment he had entered the room. How he obtained and maintained the scent was beyond her; it was as if he was constantly chewing on a combination of mint leaf and musk flower.

"You shouldn't be in here, Malfoy," she murmured for only his ears.

"Am I not welcome at Christmas then, Granger? Where's your holiday spirit?" came the snarky reply.

She glanced sharply over her shoulder. It had been a week since the potion mishap, which an apologetic Ginny had blubbered about for days before Malfoy finally snapped at her to shut it or he'd shut it for her, and she was concerned about him being out of bed and so far from his sickroom. Sure, he had been moving around with relative ease, but he had never ventured out of the library before, and she was unsure as to why he was risking it now. "You know what I mean."

"I have something for Arianna. With your permission, I'd like to give it to her." She waved her hand in a sign of acquiescence, and he called out to her daughter in a low voice, "Arianna."

Everyone in the room snapped to attention, amusing Hermione with their belated response. Had he any intention of harming them, he could've done so long before they even realized he was there. The little girl gasped in surprise, clutched her doll tightly to her chest, and launched herself in the direction of the kneeling man by her mother. He caught her easily, chuckling as he did so, and lifted her up. Hermione noticed for the first time that he was wearing robes, _real_ robes and not the medical ones she had transfigured from an old sheet. She wondered briefly where he had gotten them.

Her daughter was babbling excitedly to Malfoy, telling him all about her presents, her doll specifically. He listened intently with glittering eyes and a small smile on his lips. For the first time, Hermione saw what the girls in Hogwarts had seen for years: Draco Malfoy was a handsome man. That was no excuse for his attitude, however, and that was, by far, more important to her than anything else. When the little girl was finally winding down, he said to her, "Well, I have one more gift for you, little one. I'm sorry it's not wrapped in pretty paper."

He held up a closed hand and from it dropped the most astonishingly beautiful locket Hermione had ever seen. As it dangled from his fingers, the silver glinted in the firelight, contrasting with the black scrollwork. It was about the size of her daughter's hand, and obviously old in design. Arianna was uncharacteristically quiet as he slipped the chain around her head without having to unclasp it. She handed him the doll and grasped the locket in both her hands, staring at it with wide-eyed wonder.

"What do you say, Arianna?" Hermione whispered softly into the quiet, tense room.

"Thank you, sir."

Malfoy chuckled and tapped her under the chin with one of his long fingers, bringing her eyes to his. "Surely you know who I am by now, little one." The girl looked back at her, and she nodded hesitantly before bringing her eyes to Malfoy's, pleading with him that he not hurt her little girl. He merely cocked his head to the side and raised a perfectly shaped brow.

When Arianna turned back to him, she murmured, "Daddy?" His small smile turned into one that stretched across his face in a blinding array of bright teeth. The little girl laughed at this positive response and threw her arms around the man in front of her, obviously content with the unspoken answer to her almost-question. He held her closer, closing his eyes and breathing in deep, as if trying to memorize this moment for later.

Hermione couldn't take any more of this. The tension in the room had not lessened after Malfoy's fake confirmation of her years of lies. She stood, attempting to stave off the tears in her eyes before they dripped down her face, and said in as calm a voice as she could muster, "Come, Arianna, let's go take a nap, shall we?" She placed a hand on Malfoy's arm, directing him towards the room's exit, desperate to be out from under the scrutinous stares of her friends and fellow Order members. It was fortunate her three best friends were at the Burrow, opting to leave her here to watch over Malfoy at her insistence. They would've known immediately that something was wrong.

They began to walk up the stairs towards the bedrooms. Malfoy opened his mouth to say something before a small hand covered his mouth and Arianna whispered, "Shh, Daddy, this is the quiet place." He glanced back at Hermione, confused, and she merely responded with a shrug of her shoulders and a finger at her own lips. She would explain the picture of his obnoxious Great Aunt later.

He paused at the top of the stairs, stepping to the side to allow her around him. She led the way down the hall and entered the third door on the right. Unlike the dark hallway, this room was almost blinding in its brightness. White and pink, her daughter's favorite colors, filled the room, and a unicorn snorted from its painted position on the wall, pawing at a tuft of painted grass. She directed Malfoy to set Arianna on her white bed. When he leaned over and attempted to let go of her, she clung desperately to his neck.

"You won't leave me, will you?" Her heart broke at her daughter's words. Even if he didn't leave her now, eventually she would find out the truth, he would go on his way, and her daughter would be crushed. How had she grown so attached already? She had been so careful to keep them apart while he was recovering, even after his discovery of her existence.

"No, little one, I will never leave you."

They exited the room together, after Hermione had given her daughter a quick kiss on the forehead. When they were what she judged as a safe distance from the room, she turned on him. Poking him in the chest to enunciate her anger, she hissed, "You shouldn't feed into her false hopes, Malfoy. She is not some slut you are trying to seduce into bed with your gold plated lies. Do not promise her forever when you cannot give it to her."

His face was impassive, but his eyes flashed with his annoyance as he grabbed and held the finger she was trying to drill into his chest. "Maybe you should have thought twice, Granger, before aligning her with the devil. This is _your_ lie that I have agreed to support. I've accepted my responsibilities as a father, and I will follow through, exactly as every Malfoy has ever done through history."

She scoffed, "You mean to tell me you love your father? He never beat you or abused you? You expect me to believe that?"

His nostrils flared as he flung her hand from his grasp. "Believe whatever it is you wish, mudblood, but keep those views to yourself. I will not have you filling my daughter's head with more of your lies."

* * *

><p>The winter months passed quickly for Draco, who spent as much time with his daughter, née half-sister, as his ever-present nursemaid allowed. He tried explaining to Granger that her potions had more than brought him back to his former physical glory, but she would have none of it, insisting on checking him at least once every other day. If she thought for a moment Arianna was putting too much strain on him, as she often enjoyed riding him like a pony or being carried wherever her heart desired, she insisted on naptime for both daughter and patient.<p>

She had eventually agreed to provide him with an actual bedroom, rather than a makeshift cot in the library, for which he was infinitely grateful. Especially since she had placed him relatively near Arianna, who insisted on waking him every morning by jumping on his bed until he tackled and tickled her, showing no mercy until she was in tears from laughing. Once their morning ritual was done, he would turn his icy steel eyes to the woman standing in the doorway, waiting to take her daughter down to breakfast, and nod in acknowledgement. Stone faced with mercurial eyes, Granger would simply grasp her daughter's hand and walk away.

For the most part, the Weasel avoided him, but when he did come around, Draco couldn't resist tossing a comment or two his way about how feisty the mudblood could be or how sore he was after a particularly long night. They might have been twisted versions of the truth, but he never claimed to be a saint. The first time, the redheaded berk actually threw a punch at him. Him! Granger had managed to walk in at that precise moment, saw only the fist headed for Draco's face, and threw the Weasel across the room with a well placed flick of her wand. Oh the screeching that had followed, directed towards the crumpled man against the wall, had been music for his ears. He _still_ had dreams about it.

As for her other friends, Weaselette had finally gotten over whatever prejudice she may have had towards him and Scarhead would merely look at him in a strange, contemplative way. The first he could explain: she had softened towards him when she saw just how well he treated Arianna. Couple that with the immense guilt she seemed to feel for nearly killing him by mistake, and Granger's obvious displeasure at such an event, and the chit was practically putty in his hands. Not that he wanted her to be. She was plain and more than a little awkward, not worth his time in the least.

Potter's staring unnerved him. It was as if he could see through the lies he and Granger built every day, but for some reason, he never acted on it. He never questioned Malfoy, barely spoke to him unless it was to ask about Death Eater theories, and it didn't seem as if he had ever taken his concerns to the bushy haired mother of his child. He knew that Granger reported to Potter when Draco had been exchanging information for future protection, but he also knew that she hadn't told him exactly _who_ had been providing said information. She had wanted it that way, and he had agreed. The last thing he needed was Boy Wonder busting into a Death Eater meeting and treating him differently than he had at any other point in time. He'd rather die at the hands of his childhood enemy than be tortured and killed as a traitor.

Despite the constant threat of discovery no longer looming over his head, he found his current situation much more displeasing than his former role as a double agent. At least then, he had felt like he had some use, some part in this war. He had also felt some semblance of freedom. Here, he was trapped in a place he could not leave, with people he did not like, under the constant supervision of a woman with whom he had shared none of the pleasures but all of the consequences of a one night stand. Arianna was the only bright spot in this dreary scenario, and even after only knowing her for few months, he knew he would lay down his own life for hers.

She was everything he could've ever hoped for in a daughter: intelligent, beautiful if a little rounder than most Malfoys, and already gifted with magic. Granger had asked him to not encourage her use of wandless magic, but he didn't really care what she had to say on the matter. Arianna was a Malfoy, and he would give her every advantage he could, especially since he could not spoil her rotten with presents purchased from the Malfoys' limitless coffers. He had given the girl the only thing of value he had left in this world, other than his wand and the expensive robes he had thought to pack before coming to the "safety" of the Order, a locket that had been given to his mother for protection when she was a child. When he had married, Narcissa had given him the locket for his wife, who had taken one look at it before tossing it in the bottom of an ornate box overflowing with jewels. He should've known then that she wasn't worth his time, but the marriage of Astoria Greengrass and Draco Malfoy had been set in stone by the time he was six.

But Arianna, she had looked at the locket as if it was the best present she had ever received. He had seen the look on Granger's face when he had given it to his daughter, and was a little surprised at the wonder she, too, exhibited at the gift. He had thought he would need to explain it, and the powers contained within it, in order for her to allow the little girl to wear it, but she never asked, and she only made Arianna remove it during baths. As much as he hated her, he was grateful for her as well; she merely treated him with cool indifference, with the occasional soft smile of amusement, when she had every reason to make his life more of a living hell than it already was.

It was this thought that was currently passing through his mind when the object of his musing tapped lightly on his bedroom door and entered. Thinking it was his daughter coming for their usual morning ritual, he immediately feigned sleep, letting out an obnoxiously loud snore.

He received an almost inaudible snort in response and opened one eye slightly to better anticipate his daughter's attack. When he saw no sign of the little blonde ball of energy, he quickly sat up in his bed and spoke with a harsh tone, "Where is Arianna? Is everything okay?"

"She is still asleep. It's a little early for her to be awake." He glanced at the clock beside his bed, the hand was currently pointing to _Too Early for Breakfast_, and ran a hand through his tangled hair. What on earth could she be doing here at this time, if nothing was wrong with his daughter? He turned his eyes back to her and moved his legs over, indicating that she should sit on his bed. She visibly hesitated, but there were no chairs in the room, so her only other option was to remain standing. After another moment, she gingerly placed herself at the foot of his bed, staring at the door she had just come in.

"You wish to speak to me about something?" he questioned when she offered nothing. The small smile of amusement he'd come to anticipate during their witty verbal spars slipped across her features.

"I come to your bedroom in the dead of night, clad only in my sleeping clothes, with no word of worry about our daughter, and you assume I only wish to speak to you. Ah, me." He was grateful the woman before him was not facing him, because he didn't think he could keep the look of shock off his face. Was Granger flirting? With him? He had thrown more than a few raunchy comments her way in the years they had been working together, but only to rile her up, and with no intention of her reciprocating. Or follow through from his end.

Before he could make a comment back, she continued, "As it happens, that _is_ why I'm here. But one never likes to be considered predictable, am I right? It is about Arianna," at his sharp intake of breath, she waved his concerns away and went on, "I have no plan to stop or limit your time together. In fact, quite the opposite. I've come to tell you that I trust you with her. Completely. And that is the only reason I am agreeing to do this."

He pulled his knees to his chest and rested his chin on them before asking, "Agreeing to do what?"

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Granger turned towards him on the bed, a look of determination on her face. "Moody has given me an assignment. It should only take about three days, but one never knows with these things. I have not been earning my keep since Arianna, and it is time I got back out into the field."

"No."

"Excuse me?"

Draco drew in his own deep breath to keep from leaping towards her and throttling her. "I said no. You are not going on _any_ assignment, let alone one that will take a few days. What if something happened to you? What would become of Arianna?"

She didn't flinch the way he expected her to, but instead stared him down with a steely resolve he admired greatly. "That is always a risk. But you are here now; Arianna would be alright."

"I will go."

Granger's eyes opened slightly in shock, but her voice remained calm as she answered, "No, you are too recognizable. And you are a traitor. You've heard the reports."

He rolled his eyes, "Yes, yes, they're hunting me down, so what?" He waved a hand over himself and felt the change as the magic sparks grew his hair and rounded his features. With her gasp, he knew it had worked and she was currently looking at herself. "I can hold it for longer than a polyjuice potion."

"Malfoy, that is _very_ advanced magic! And without a wand!"

"Yes. I will go in your place."

She smiled at him, but it didn't reach her eyes. "We will discuss it with Harry and Moody in the morning."

As she got up and moved towards his door, he said to her back, "Malfoys protect their own, Granger. And because of Arianna, that means you now." Her steps never faltered as she slipped out of his room without a word.

And in the morning, she was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

**A Loose Connection**  
>Chapter 4<br>by: J. Green

She had been gone two weeks. Two weeks without checking in like she was supposed to. The first week, the fool Moody had refused to tell Draco anything, sure that he would compromise the operation. After a week with no word, he appealed to Boy Wonder, threatening to take his daughter and go after her himself if he wasn't kept informed about what was being done to locate her. At first, Potter denied him, despite listening to Arianna cry night after night. Finally, Draco had been forced to give him a dire ultimatum. Tell him everything about Granger's mission and the current rescue efforts, or he would take the girl to Malfoy Manor where he would request the help of his father in exchange for Arianna.

He was fairly certain he could continue the façade of being Arianna's true father in front of his own parents, and he knew, no matter the questionable blood of her mother, she would be protected as the next Malfoy heir. His father would do everything in his power to protect Draco from almost certain death upon his return, as well, and he was convinced that was the only reason he was still alive presently. There was no reason his father or mother couldn't locate him; they all had tracking charms in place for safety purposes, and no amount of wards and charms would stop the ancient magic they had used. When he discovered Granger's disappearance the morning after she had spoken to him, he had immediately placed the same tracking spell on Arianna. He would never lose her. If she had waited, if she hadn't left the Headquarters probably minutes after leaving his room, he would've told Granger about the charm, and forced her to have one as well. That was, of course, if he hadn't convinced her to switch places with him, which he was positive, given a little more time, he would've been able to do.

It was under this ultimate threat that Scarhead finally caved. There was no rescue operation; Hermione Granger was considered killed in the line of duty. For once, instead of the piercing, questioning look or the stony mask of indifference, his childhood enemy showed him a different emotion. With tears streaming down his face, he admitted to Draco that he didn't know what to tell Arianna, didn't know how to tell her that her mother was never coming home.

"I don't believe it."

"You can believe whatever you want, Malfoy, but that is the truth," he spat.

He narrowed his eyes as he said, "No, I believe that there is no rescue mission. I believe you think she is dead. But I don't believe that she is. Not Granger."

"Why? Because you're too afraid to raise Arianna yourself? Don't worry, leave her here and go about your merry way. She's more ours than yours anyway."

"Watch your tongue, Potter, or I'll be forced to do something unpleasant. She is _my_ daughter."

"The result of a rape and a witch too cowardly to terminate." Draco's fist was flying before he even registered it. The raven haired boy crashed to the ground just as the kitchen door opened and the tiny pitter patter of a child's feet could be heard entering the room. It was only the knowledge that Arianna was there that kept him from killing the boy in front of him. His vision was red with rage as he turned on his heel, scooped up his daughter and stormed out of the room.

Tiny arms encircled his neck, and he could feel wet tears sliding down his shirt. He stroked her soft hair and made comforting noises in the back of his throat in an attempt to soothe her. He had scared her, he knew, but really, Potter had it coming. Had Granger really considered terminating this precious girl in his arms? No, he didn't believe that for a minute. Someone like Scarhead or the Weasel may have suggested it, but he knew she would've shot that idea down immediately. It seemed he knew her better than her friends.

"Little one? Daddy is sorry."

"Why did you hit Uncle Harry?" came the soft sobbing reply.

Red flashed before his eyes again. If only she knew the truth about what her precious "uncle" felt for her. A mistake. "He said something very not nice about Mummy. Daddy had to remind him not to say those things."

She began to tremble. "What if… what if I say something not nice about someone? Will they hit me?"

"No! Oh Merlin, no Arianna. Daddy shouldn't have done that, no matter how much P-Uncle Harry deserved it. No one will ever hit you like that, little one. Daddy will make sure of it." Her grip tightened in response and he took her to their room. Since Granger's disappearance, she had taken to sleeping with Draco in his room, being too afraid of the "monsters" in her own. No amount of him checking the closet and under the bed had assuaged her fears, so he had allowed her this indulgence knowing full well when her mother returned, he would get an earful for spoiling the girl.

And she would return. He would make sure of it. Earful of mudblood screeching and all. He set his daughter down, settling the dark blue covers around her. He glanced at the clock, _Should Be Sleeping_, before smoothing her hair away from her forehead and leaning in to brush his lips against it. His heart squeezed painfully as he looked in her sad, grey eyes, slightly red from crying. He had to bring Granger back, for her. She was so sure Arianna would be alright because she had him now, but what child could be alright without her mother? She was a Malfoy, and a Malfoy deserved the best, and that included dirty blooded, frizzy haired, loving, attentive mothers.

"Now, what were you doing out of bed, little one?"

"I had a dream about Mummy."

"Oh? Was it a good dream?"

"The best. We were together and we had a puppy and a kitty and you kept putting the kitty on Mummy's head. I miss her."

He knew he should tell her that he missed her mother, too, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. It was true, on some level, but saying it was like admitting she was gone, and he wasn't prepared to do that just yet. Granger would be back, and continue to be an annoying, nagging, thorn in his side until they were old and grey and their beautiful little girl had a beautiful child of her own. Even after that, he was sure.

"Arianna? Would you be okay if Daddy left for a few days? You'd have Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny and Uncle Ron to look after you." His heart was breaking, even as he asked the question.

She shot up in bed, "You're leaving me? You're leaving me, too?"

"No, little one, not for long. Daddy has an idea of where Mummy might be. You do want to see Mummy again, yes?" Oh, this was the cruelest form of manipulation, and he knew it. He hadn't been put into Slytherin because of his family ties alone.

"Why can't Uncle Harry go and get her?"

"Because only Daddy can go and help Mummy."

"Can't I come with?"

"Daddy would feel better if you stayed here, little one. Mummy…" he wasn't sure how to explain to her that her mother might be hurt or in danger, "she might need Daddy's help."

"You will come back?" she asked with eyes full of tears. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, stroking her hair and gently pushing back down to the bed at the same time.

"Of course I will. I promised you I'd never leave you, yes?"

* * *

><p>She was cold. The thin blanket that had been given to her did nothing to stop the icy chills slithering down her spine. She was fed, and for that she was grateful, because she was not sure she could otherwise endure the torture they put her body through. Fortunately, this time, they had refrained from anything sexual.<p>

Also, this time, long after her abusers had left, a dark cloaked figure would enter her cell noiselessly and heal her wounds. She wasn't sure how it was explained to those that tortured her, because it didn't seem as though this person was under instructions to do so. But she wasn't going to question it herself. It just made for interesting ponderings in her sleepless downtimes.

Arianna was always on her mind. With every whip crack and painful spell cast her way, she focused on her beautiful little girl. Was Malfoy caring for her properly? She was sure he was. It was obvious he loved her. She still couldn't figure out _why_ he had chosen to take this responsibility, but that was the least of her concerns. She only hoped he had not been serious when he spoke about Malfoys taking care of their own. She didn't need him acting the hero and Arianna losing both of her…parents.

She often pondered why she was here. Well, why she was here and _alive_. They hadn't spoken of using her in some nefarious plot to lure Harry and others here in a sad, half-planned attempt at a rescue, and the bad guys always told their victims the nefarious plot, right? At this thought, she used her arms to painfully lift herself off the dirty floor where she had been huddled. She needed to walk around the small cell in an attempt to get her blood flowing. She wished there was someone she could speak with, some way she could pass on her memories, so they wouldn't die here with her.

She was going to die. She knew that. It was only a matter of time. She didn't know or understand why she was still alive now, but soon they would rectify the situation. She wondered if it would be a physical death or a magical one. She was a witch, mudblooded or no, and she hoped they at least gave her the dignity of an _Avada_ death. They had killed countless Muggles with the spell, why not her? As she contemplated her death, she tried to ignore her frozen, sluggish feet.

* * *

><p>He apparated into the relative safety of his parents' bedroom. Relative in that, the moment his apparation was complete, he had to drop to the floor to avoid being hit by the two spells immediately flung his way from the direction of the bed. He shot his Patronus into the air for identification and heard a tentative, "Draco?" in response.<p>

"Yes, mother. May I remove myself from the floor?" he asked in a slightly arrogant, yet amused, tone.

His mother, being used to this dry humor from both her husband and her son, responded simply, "Please do, dear. It's unbefitting of a Malfoy to be rolling about in the dirt."

"As if this floor has ever seen a speck of dust," he mumbled before righting himself and smoothing out his robes. He glanced towards the bed to see his mother sitting up, her wand limp in her right hand and her chin resting upon her left while she contemplated the fact that her son was now in her bedroom. Even in the middle of the night, having been woken up abruptly, she looked as if she had stepped off a fashion plate, with every hair in place and a smooth, fresh face. His father was already barreling towards him, dressing gown thrown about his shoulders yet untied, and therefore billowing in a manner that very much reminded Draco of his former Potions professor. The whole action was unexpected, but even more so when he found himself being pulled into a bone crushing hug and then thoroughly patted down and checked for injury.

He turned his surprised face back to his mother, looking at her in question, and received only a shrug in return. After another moment, his father softly cuffed him on the back of his head. Ah yes, there was his father. "What were you thinking, returning here like this? We could've killed you. Someone else could've been here. You're being _hunted_, Draco. This was the most foolish thing –"

"And yet, here I am, alive and well, though perhaps a little more wrinkled than I'm used to. Should I start calling you 'Mother'?" he raised an eyebrow at his father as he cut him off.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were insulting me," came the voice from the bed.

He smirked in her direction as his father released him and turned back to the bed, indicating that Draco should seat himself on one of the plush chairs in the sitting area by the fire. "Why have you come?"

"There is someone…important to me missing. And I have a feeling you know where she is." His parents didn't even blink an eye as they waited for him to continue. "In fact, I'm positive she's in this household."

"I'm sure we don't know what you mean, Draco." If they weren't his parents, he would've accepted this statement from his mother as fact; there was no indication that what she said was a lie. But he had been raised by these two people before him. He knew them as well as they knew themselves.

He sighed. He had hoped he wouldn't have to reveal the information that was about to pass his lips, but he knew, from the lengths they were going to in order to lie to him, and to not reveal the lie, that he would get nothing from them otherwise. "She is the mother of my child. I would not ask you to risk your lives for anything less, I can assure you."

There was no shocked outcry or sharp intake of breath at this revelation. His mother merely slid herself out of bed, pulled on her dressing gown, and walked towards the door. His father remained where he was, staring at Draco in a penetrating manner. He broke the silence that had descended upon the room with a pointed "Narcissa!" once she had reached the doorway.

With her back to the most important men in her life, she sighed deeply and said, "Lucius. You cannot ask me to keep her here any longer. Malfoys take care of their own. Our grandchild will have its mother." Without another word, she swept from the room.

She heard the soft footfalls of the one who heals her echo down the hallway. Something was wrong. The healer had already come and gone hours ago, there was no reason for a return visit so soon. Hermione pressed herself into the far wall in fear. Perhaps this was it. This was the moment she had dwelled on for long stretches of time. Of course, it would come at the hand of the one who aided her; how very Death Eater of her captors.

The heavy wooden door creaked open and the small light from the end of a wand peeked into the room. When it did not reveal the prisoner held within the cell, the door opened further and the owner of the lit wand stepped in more fully, the light now hitting every crevice of the room as it grew in strength.

A flash of blonde caught Hermione's eyes, and for a fleeting moment she thought the man who was supposed to be caring for her daughter was rescuing her. It wasn't until an aristocratic female's voice filled the air that she realized it was not the Malfoy she was hoping for, but rather his mother. Something clattered at her feet as the voice said, "Cast a disillusionment charm on yourself, girl. There is someone I must take you to."

When she hesitated, the voice stated more sharply, "I do not have all night. Do you wish to stay here until they kill you, or would you like to go home to your child?" That was all the motivation she needed to quickly scoop up the wand at her feet, _her wand_, and murmur a quick charm to hide herself from view.

Mrs. Malfoy doused her wand light and led the way to a staircase at the end of the hall. She paused only momentarily, probably to assure herself she was still being followed, and opened the heavy wall concealing the dungeons within the house. Hermione wished she knew what was going on, but much like she hadn't questioned why she was still alive, she wasn't going to question why she was being helped by the mother of her childhood tormentor. After her talks with Malfoy, she was a little confused by her actions. Shouldn't she hate her? Shouldn't she blame her for the current state of her marriage? Voldemort's punishment to Lucius Malfoy did not have the long term effects he desired, it seemed. That, and these Malfoys were nothing like she expected.

It was a good thing she had never managed to find a way out of her cell. She would not have been able to find her way through the twisting hallways that were, what she now assumed, Malfoy Manor. She didn't find it cold or foreboding, like she had always imagined it would be. It wasn't _warm_ or _light_, but it was also the middle of the night, judging by Mrs. Malfoy's current state of dress, and there were no windows to let in the smallest amount of starlight.

"Narcissa. You are out late this evening." The voice startled Hermione, and it took all her self control to stifle the shocked noise that threatened to escape her lips. She prayed her disillusionment charm was strong enough to keep her concealed from the head currently peeking out of a doorway on her left.

"Mr. McNair, I find your familiarity offensive," came the stiff reply.

"Apologies, Mrs. Malfoy, the lateness of the hour has made me forget my manners."

"Quite alright," she murmured before moving down the hallway, her pace neither more hurried nor slower than before. She was quite good at hiding the truth behind her actions without drawing suspicion to herself. Apparently Malfoy didn't only inherit traits from his father.

After what seemed like too long, the unlikely pair reached a set of large doors, intricately carved. If there had been more light, Hermione would have loved to pause a moment and study the engravings, despite the dire situation she found herself in. Instead, she stepped soundlessly through the now open door. When the door clicked shut behind her, she felt a ward she couldn't identify slip back into place and immediately felt fear. Was she being trapped here?

"Where is she?" Oh, that voice! The voice she had heard in laughter so often these past few months, that she had heard sneering at her for much longer than that, that was often petulant or angry or calmly icy; that voice was music to her ears. She turned to him and devoured him with her eyes. Cool, collected, every hair in place. His stance screamed breeding and superiority, even here in the privacy of what she guessed was his parents' bedroom. He had come for her.

Mrs. Malfoy looked in her direction for a moment before rolling her eyes and waving her hand, removing the spell that protected Hermione from sight. At this revelation, Malfoy immediately moved towards her, and she felt her arms reaching for him of their own volition. He was almost to her when she heard _it_. The deep voice of her nightmares. Even if he hadn't wanted to do it, even if he had eased her pain as much as he possibly could, even if he had set her free…he had still raped her.

"Leave. Leave now before they discover her gone." One look in the direction of the voice and her knees gave out as her world went black.


	5. Chapter 5

**A Loose Connection**  
>Chapter 5<br>By: J. Green

It was an interesting role reversal, he mused to himself. Here he was, brewing potions for and watching over an injured Hermione Granger. His mother had done a good job of healing her wounds nightly, and making sure she was fed plenty, but her spirit was broken. He could see it the moment she appeared before him, her eyes desperate and longing as she stared at him. For what, he didn't know.

His father had assured him that no more sexual acts had been performed on the girl lying unconscious in his bed; he had informed his fellow Death Eaters that, unless a direct order was issued from the Dark Lord, there would be none of that in his home. Since Voldemort had yet to make an appearance after the fortuitous and unplanned capture of the Light-sider, she had been safe from those kinds of advances. It didn't make Draco any easier, as he knew that she had probably been submitted to many other horrifying forms of torture, but at least he knew to expect. He had no experience with rape victims.

He hadn't informed anyone of his return yet. He was sure _someone_ knew he was there, simply from the wards placed on the house, but he had not met anyone on his way in and had not sought anyone out since his arrival. He knew he should check on Arianna, but he needed to be sure that Granger would be alright before he did that. Also, since Arianna was not in his bed where he'd left her, he assumed she was asleep in her own room at the moment.

All in all, his trip to the Manor had taken him no more than three hours. It seemed too easy, and in truth, it was. His parents would be facing the brunt of the punishment to come. The retribution for losing one of the key players in this war, for a _second_ time, would be heavy. And deep down, he knew he could not let his parents face that alone. As soon as Granger was well enough to attend to herself and Arianna, he would turn himself over to the Dark Lord.

His whole life had been about two things: power and survival. His parents would be furious when he returned, giving up on the lessons of his youth and the future they were trying to secure for him despite his betrayal. But this was necessary. He couldn't explain _why_, not even to himself, but he knew it was. As he added a batwing to his cauldron, he snorted in laughter. Granger would be pretty livid, too, for breaking his promise to their daughter. Someday, though, Arianna would understand, and she would remember her father with pride. Yes, being a martyr would give him power even after death. His chest swelled in excitement at the thought.

"One would think you just won the lottery, with that look on your face," a soft voice said to his back. He turned and offered her a small smile, though he wasn't sure what she meant. One final counterclockwise stir later, and he was pouring the freshly made potion into a bottle. As he approached her, she looked at him questioningly.

"My own version of a strengthening potion. You're not the only one who is handy with adapting potions to suit your needs," he said with a self-satisfied smirk. She merely grinned in response and downed the flask in one go. She leaned back with a contented sigh, a smile playing about her lips. "Better?" he asked.

"Much," she responded before looking around. "Isn't this your room?" Her brow was furrowed as she tried to ponder the reason she would be in here.

"I wasn't sure what wards you had for your own room, and didn't have time to safely remove them. You're about as heavy as a tonne of bricks." She laughed softly and halfheartedly swung her hand in his direction. He caught her wrist easily and held it in his hand. "Would you like me to go and wake Arianna? She's been nearly inconsolable while you've been gone."

"No, let her sleep. I'm sure she needs it." Suddenly, the hand he held tightened in his grasp. "You aren't going to leave me alone, are you?" If the situation had been any different, he would've laughed at how much like their daughter she sounded at this moment.

"You didn't leave me alone, even when I nearly hexed you to oblivion with just my mind, so no. I'll be at your constant beck and call until you're better." He couldn't hide the gentle amusement in his voice.

With a slam, the door of the room opened and Draco promptly dropped Granger's hand, snatched his wand from his robe pocket, and spun around to face the intruder. There stood Potter, his own wand raised, a look of surprise on his face. Behind him stood the Weasel, fury emanating from his very pores. After a silent moment, Potter dropped his wand to his side and exclaimed, "You found her!"

"I told you I would. I also told you she was alive." He met Granger's eyes at that moment, and instantly regretted his words. He should not have let her know that her friends hadn't even wanted to look for her. The muddy brown eyes stared at him in shock, liquid beginning to pool at the edges. He frowned at her, and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head, letting her know that she could cry about this later, but for now she needed to remain strong. Immediately after, the connection was broken as Potter's arms wrapped around her tightly.

"Oh, Hermione! We thought the worst! I'm so sorry...so, so sorry," he sobbed into her chest. She merely murmured soothing noises while she softly stroked his head. She glanced at the redhead standing in the doorway awkwardly, and lifted her arms in invitation. He, too, ran to her and collapsed against her chest, crying.

"There now. Everything is okay. I'm here." Draco couldn't take anymore of this scene. He had risked his neck for her, for their daughter, while her friends hadn't even _attempted _to look for her, and here they were, getting all her attention. Without a word he made his way to the door, intent on finding the location of his daughter so that he could calm his now boiling blood. "Malfoy!" she called out sharply just before he left the room. He turned his head to glance at her over his shoulder from the corner of his eye. "Thank you," she stated firmly, adding quickly, "Please don't be long."

He stomped down the hall, her kind words having no effect on his anger. When he reached Arianna's room, he opened the door quietly. One look at the bed showed him that she wasn't there, although the sheets were mussed. He stepped in quickly and looked around the room, trying to locate the little girl. His eyes fell on a black lump he didn't recognize in the corner by her large dollhouse. He crept over to it, his wand lit faintly to cast a little light on it. Upon closer observation, he finally recognized the black lump: his daughter wrapped in his travelling cloak, which he had forgotten to take with him when he left to find Granger. He could see faint traces of salt tracks on her face, remnants of her obvious tears at his departure.

He sighed softly as his heart filled with pain. It would be hard to leave her behind for good. Gathering the small girl into his arms, he walked her over to the bed, prepared to tuck her back in, when he felt her small arms wrap around his neck. "Daddy?" she whispered, disbelievingly.

"Yes, little one, I'm back. And I've found Mummy."

"Mummy! Mummy is home?" she practically screamed in excitement. He laughed at her joy and promptly changed his mind about tucking her back in. Instead, he headed out the door and down the hall to his room, hugging her close to his chest.

When they reached the door, the two poufs he despised were still there, sobbing uncontrollably. _Prats_, he thought as he glared at their backs. Granger looked exasperated, so he decided it was a good time to break up this pity party. "As much as I hate to interrupt this _touching_ moment, there is someone more important here to see Granger." At his words, Arianna leapt from his arms and ran towards her mother.

A choked sob escaped from Granger's throat as she practically pushed the two boys off of her and threw open her arms to accept the blonde ball of energy hurtling her way. Once her daughter was safely in her grasp, Draco looked at the other two males in the room and stated firmly, "I believe it is time for you to leave. Let's give the family some time together, yes?" Reluctantly, throwing looks over their shoulders the entire way, the two boys finally reached the door. He took one look at Granger, eyes closed, shaking with emotion as her daughter clung to her tightly, and made to follow the others.

"Malfoy!" her voice again stopped him, but this time, he turned fully to her, no longer angry that her attention was elsewhere. She moved one arm from around Arianna and held it open in an invitation to join them. He hesitated and stared at the floor; this was much more contact than he desired with her, even if they were forever connected by the little girl between them. Making his decision, he closed the door behind him and walked towards the two of them. Granger slid over, making room for him on the bed, and threw her arm around his waist as he sat down. He slipped his around her, and rested his head on the child's head in front of him, his other hand smoothing down her blonde hair. If anyone who didn't know them had been looking in, they would've assumed that the picture before them was that of a loving family sharing a private moment. _And_, Draco thought, _maybe they'd be right_.


	6. Chapter 6

**A Loose Connection**  
>Chapter 6<br>By: J. Green

Hermione stretched and opened her eyes, sighing in contentment. Her daughter was beside her, and she knew Malfoy would be next to Arianna. They'd been sleeping this way for a week now. She'd been upset when she found out he had been allowing their daughter to sleep in his bed after her capture, but it turned out to be for the best, at least for now. She felt more rested than ever before, her daughter was happy, and she wasn't kicking Malfoy out of his bed.

She owed quite a bit to him after this latest misadventure. She readily agreed to forgo anymore missions the Order tried to send her on, serving primarily in a planning and intelligence role from this point forward. She couldn't risk anything more dangerous when Arianna was very clearly in need of her. Other mothers took breaks to raise their children, and just because she was a part of the Golden Trio didn't mean she was any less deserving of that.

She was also quite embarrassed after Malfoy informed her of the tracking charm that he could've placed on her if she had waited even a few more hours before leaving. It had now been performed on her, and she knew how to activate both his and Arianna's if the need ever arose. Her mission would've been ten times more successful if she had only been a little less eager to prove herself to everyone.

Sensing her movement, Malfoy propped himself up on one elbow and looked over Arianna at her. "Good morning." Her chest fluttered a bit as his hair fell across his eyes and the light from the window played along the planes of his t-shirt clad chest. This man's very being confused her. He could be cold and harsh, petulant and childish, warm and loving – and it was all wrapped up in a beautiful shell. She turned on her side, looking up at him through her lashes and reached out to brush the offending strand of hair behind his ear more firmly.

Her fingers skimmed down his stubbled jaw before he grabbed her wrist gently, his face stony and his grey eyes questioning her actions. She merely shrugged her shoulder in response, unsure of her actions herself. When his head turned to glide a soft kiss along the inside of her wrist, her fingers curled in response, a tingling sensation shooting up her arm. The corner of his mouth quirked up ever so slightly before he promptly dropped her arm at the stirring of their daughter. She brought it to her chest and hugged it close, not wanting the tingling to go away.

Arianna sat up, breaking the eye contact between her parents. As she rubbed at her eyes with tiny fists, she yawned and asked, "Time for breakfast?"

"Yes, little one, let's go and make something special for Mummy," Malfoy's deep voice filled the air and thrummed a path to her stomach, forming a knot there that she could not differentiate between pleasurable or painful. He pulled their daughter up and out of bed, resting her on his hip as Hermione called out a warning not to make a mess. The pair merely laughed as he practically ran out of the room, the little girl clinging to his neck.

Tears formed in her eyes after they were gone. Her life was not supposed to be this perfect, not after everything that had happened to her. And yet, she had never been happier. If every day was just like this, her life would be complete. She forced herself to slide out of the bed, the protesting, aching joints a byproduct of some curse that had been placed on her during her captivity. They were trying to figure out what had happened to her to reverse it, but had no luck so far.

She was determined today to take a shower. Scourgifying herself with magic had not left her _feeling_ clean, and after a week, her skin was almost raw from the intensity of the spell. She made her way to the bathroom one faltering step at a time, occasionally reaching out to steady herself on various pieces of furniture. She closed the bathroom door behind her and leaned against it for a moment, catching her breath and trying to mentally soothe away her pain. A few more wavering steps and she was able to lean against the tub as she turned on the water.

She slipped out of her nightclothes and into the spray of warm water, humming at how glorious it felt against her skin. Moving as quickly as she could, she soaped and rinsed her thick hair, knowing this would take the longest. She had to pause several times and lean against the cool tile wall in order to regain her strength, before attacking the lengthy strands again. When her task was complete, she sighed in relief as she reached for the body soap, but found it frustratingly difficult to bring to her body with such a weak grip. She finally gritted her teeth through the pain and gripped the soap with force. She was doing fine, for the most part, until only her legs were left. With difficulty, she bent over and began to work her way down her right thigh. She was not even to her knee when her legs gave out and she collapsed to the bottom of the tub with a loud, keening cry.

Malfoy crashed into the bathroom at the sound of her sobbing and quickly shut the door behind him to prevent Arianna's entrance. He called out behind him, "We'll be out in a minute, little one. Mummy just needs Daddy's help. Go find Aunt Ginny and play, we'll call you in a bit." He turned his eyes to her and she cried harder, upset at the anger she saw in them. He began to check her over for any wounds before questioning angrily, "What were you thinking, Granger? You could've seriously injured yourself!"

"I just wanted a damn shower! I'm tired of being so bloody weak!" she cried, sobbing harder in embarrassment at him seeing her this way.

"Enough! Calm down, woman. You're no good to anyone this way," his tone was harsh as he adjusted her so she was sitting as if having a bath, not caring a bit that he was becoming soaked. As his shirt became more transparent, the realization that she was completely open to his perusal hit her full force, and she blushed furiously as she tried to cover herself up with her hands. He rolled his eyes and stated firmly, "It's a little late for modesty, Granger; I _have_ helped you change all week. Now," he kept his eyes on her face, never straying below her chin, "how far did you get? It looks like your hair is done."

"Y-yes," she answered, "just my legs left." A sniffle escaped and he narrowed his eyes. "I'm done crying, I promise." He nodded and reached for the soap, lathering up his hands and bringing them to her right leg. His hands were gentle as he rubbed circles along her thigh and down her calf. He placed the soap in the holder and began to rub with just the smallest amount of pressure up and down her leg before focusing on her foot. She almost purred at the sensation, leaning back and closing her eyes, trusting him to keep his hands and eyes away from certain areas. She didn't stifle her giggle when he began to move his fingers between her toes and she heard a soft chuckle in response.

Finished with her right leg, he moved to her left, reaching across the bath and putting himself even more into the path of the water spray. Hermione peeked out from her closed lids, but he seemed unconcerned and completely focused on scrubbing her leg. She watched as water droplets snaked their way down the planes of his face, dripping off his chin and onto her legs. When he was finished, he reached for his wand and transfigured a nearby hand towel into a goblet, filling it with the water pouring from the showerhead and rinsing off her legs thoroughly.

When he was done, he reversed the spell, shut off the water and turned to her, offering her a hand to help her out of the shower. Her legs felt great; gone was the ache in her joints associated with movement of any kind. She looked at him in surprise and told him what she was feeling. He smirked and answered softly, "We can begin a massage therapy in the mornings, if you wish." She blushed, but everything else had failed so far, so why not? He handed her a towel before casting a drying spell on himself, removing most of the moisture from his clothing. Unfortunately, magic wasn't good for everything, and she knew his clothing was still damp.

He left the bathroom and returned seconds later with a clean nightshift for her, helping her ease into it. "Shouldn't you change as well?" she asked shyly. "We wouldn't want you to catch your death."

"I will in a moment; let's get you settled first." He took a brush to her hair and began to work out the knots while she used the toilet as a seat. When it was tangle free, he began to plait it into a long braid, tying it off with a piece of string he had conjured. As soon as this was complete, he shifted his arm around her waist and assisted her back to his comfortable bed. She settled in with a sigh and he began to tuck the covers in around her.

"Enough of your mothering, Malfoy."

He smirked before replying, "But you're just so pathetic, Granger. Not helping you is almost akin to kicking a puppy." This earned him a glare, but he merely chuckled before calling out for their daughter. She appeared before them in a matter of seconds, the youngest Weasley close behind.

"Everything okay in here?" she asked, eyeing Hermione suspiciously. "Arianna said she heard you crying."

"Simply having myself a little pity party. There was cake and balloons, you missed a wild bash."

"Sounds like it. Would you like some company while you eat?"

"Thank you, but no," Hermione shook her head. It's not that she didn't love Ginny's companionship, but she really hated her friends seeing her like this, practically invalid. Malfoy grabbed the tray he had discarded in a hurry and cast a quick warming spell on the contents, bringing it to her once the redhead had left the room.

"I'm afraid it won't be quite as good reheated like this, but –"

"But it's not like it was that good to begin with," she finished with a smirk. He was terrible at cooking, and having their daughter help never made it better, but he refused to admit it. There was always some excuse, from him not being used to the kitchen at the Headquarters to the flour being _obviously_ expired. She laughed to herself when he scowled at her. He settled the tray in her lap, and Arianna crawled up next to her, grabbing pieces of cantaloupe with her fingers.

Malfoy stood there for a moment, arms crossed, obviously waiting for some kind of apology, but she merely grinned and asked if he was planning on joining them or preferred standing there to eating. With an angry _hrmph_ he plopped onto the bed, nearly upsetting the tray, and causing Hermione to quickly grab the glasses of orange juice before they toppled over. Arianna thought this was the greatest trick in the world and began to laugh uncontrollably. It was only a matter of minutes before the scowls on the adults' faces melted into laughter as well.

* * *

><p>Granger was laid out, naked, in front of him, and he was unsure of where to begin. He'd never imagined seeing the mudblood naked, especially willing, <em>especially<em> so often. But as it was, this was the third morning of their "massage therapy" sessions. He had mixed together a hand crème and a pain relieving potion, using it as his lubricant, and it seemed to be the only thing that worked. Each day it was lasting longer. Finally, something was reversing the effects of whatever horrid curse had been placed on her. It was only a matter of time before they would no longer need to continue these sessions, she would no longer need his assistance with changing and bathing, and he would no longer see her naked.

Draco Malfoy wasn't sure exactly how that made him feel.

Her skin was smooth and unblemished, and he enjoyed the feeling of his hands rubbing along her firm muscles. Her stomach was a little on the chubby side, but that was to be expected, as she had never been overly skinny and she was now a mother. She was pale, yes, perhaps a bit too pale, but then, so was he, and he did not think less of her for it.

He began as he always did, with her back. He worked the muscles along her spin first, slowly radiating his strokes outward, towards her sides. She sighed in contentment as the ointment and the massage began to do its work. He then focused on her neck, and each arm in turn, from shoulder to hand, even going so far as to massage each individual finger. When this was completed to his, and her, satisfaction, he moved her to her feet, lifting each one up so he had better access. He rubbed down both her calves simultaneously, loving the smooth strength he could feel in them. Finally, he reached her thighs. As had happened the previous two mornings, she stiffened, and he could smell her arousal almost instantaneously. Each stroking circle closer to her center caused her to tense more, finally forcing him to whisper softly, "Relax, sweet, or this will do no good."

Little did she realize that he could smell her arousal, and it only strengthened his own. This would be the third morning that they would both walk away with unsatisfied sexual needs. If only he had the ability to apparate from this hellhole and lose himself in the arms of a willing woman. Because, for all her obvious excitement, he knew it was not _him_ that stimulated her, but the motions of his hands. He had never wanted to bury himself in a mudblood before, but now he found himself questioning if such an act would truly be as awful as he had been raised to imagine. She was below purebloods in every manner, surely what was between her legs would be no less lowly. But then, hadn't Astoria been cold in a way that had left him longing for something, _anything_ more? Hadn't Astoria, a pureblood with a line almost as ancient as his own, been a terrible wife, a mediocre witch, and a betrayer through and through?

He already knew he trusted Granger far more than he had _ever_ trusted his former wife. She was a brilliant witch, with power he had never imagined someone without pure blood having, and she was a wonderful mother. He expected she'd be a fine and loyal wife to someone one day.

"Malfoy?" her soft voice interrupted his musings, forcing him to realize he had stopped his hands in a rather precarious position – mere centimeters from her dripping core.

"My apologies," he stated, immediately backing away as she lifted herself up bringing a sheet against her front.

"Lose yourself for a moment? Your thoughts seemed deep."

He smirked slightly, trying to hide his embarrassment, "One such as me? Having deep thoughts? I assure you no such thing happened. I was merely distracted by a shiny object over on the desk."

She laughed and arched her back to stretch her muscles, causing her breasts to thrust forward towards him in an unintended invitation. It took most of his self control to keep his eyes firmly trained on hers. She summoned her clothes to her, and dropped the sheet as she began to dress. At this, he watched her closely, checking to make sure she was not in pain from the movements of her joints. Indeed, it seemed as though she was completely cured. He knew it would not last the whole day, but she would be fine until at least afternoon tea, which was when she had started aching again the day before. It was time for him to hand over their morning sessions to her redheaded companion.

Draco knew he had already wasted too much time here caring for Granger. With her beginning to move about as normal again, he felt his debt to her was lessened enough for him to pay his debt to his parents. Malfoys never left a debt unpaid. He wasn't sure what he was going to do, what situation he would end up in when he returned to his childhood home, but he knew that he must. He would miss Arianna. He would miss Granger.

Snapping himself out of his reverie, he moved to take her hand, place it in his arm and lead her down the hall to their daughter's room, where she was no doubt playing with her favorite doll. They were both silent as they made their way there, strolling in a style reminiscent of lovers in the Victorian era. Her poise and grace amazed him. She had not been brought up in his world of aristocracy, how could she slip into the patterns he was so familiar with? Had he not seen his parents walk in this same manner all his years of growing up? Was this not the same way he had tried to walk with Astoria so often after their marriage? He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Astoria had been on his mind too often as of late, and always in comparison with Granger. Why she should remind him of his failed marriage, he didn't know.

When they reached Arianna's room, the little blonde girl immediately jumped to her feet and ran to greet her parents. Clutching at her mother's robes, smiling up at her, with Granger resting her hand on her head and smiling in return, Draco felt his chest tighten. Oh yes, he would miss this little girl and her mother very much indeed.


	7. Chapter 7

**A Loose Connection**  
>Chapter 7<br>By: J. Green

He was gone. He had left her and their daughter in the dead of the night and she was _livid_. She knew how to track him, but currently lacked the herbal supplies needed to do so. The _wanker_ had taken them with him. She knew what he was going to do. She knew it as well as she knew what she herself would be doing if her parents had made the decisions his had. He was being selfless and selfish at the same time, and she wasn't sure if she would strangle him or kiss him the next time she saw him.

If she saw him again. Ever. She shuddered at that morbid thought.

He had gone to Malfoy Manor. She knew that, but she didn't know how to get there. She wasn't sure she'd be able to apparate near there without the tracking charm anyway, so it wasn't worth the effort to locate it. Instead, she had sent Ginny out to get more herbs, by hook or by crook. She would've gone herself if daughter hadn't been so distraught at the disappearance of her father for the second time in just a few weeks.

This could not continue. The two of them had to be taking years off their daughter's life from the amount of stress they were causing her. If and when she got him back, she would force _him_ to promise _her_ that he would keep himself safe. There would be no more of this half-cocked leaving in the night from either party ever again.

Hermione paced the room, ignoring the groaning of her joints and muscles. She missed his hands on her, more than she'd care to admit. Ginny was very clinical in her massage method, spending an equal amount of time on every muscle, forcing Hermione to drink water instead of any other beverage, and using only some lotion her mother had given her. She refused to use Malfoy's concoction, unsure of what it contained. Unfortunately, all this only made her suffer more. She wanted a cuppa. She wanted the pain relief potion. She wanted Malfoy's knowing hands feeling out each muscle's needs and working them until she was a puddle.

She glanced down at the blonde girl curled on the couch by the fireplace, the tear tracks dried into salty trails on her cheeks. Hermione didn't know how she was going to tell her she was leaving again. She didn't have the confidence she was sure Malfoy had exuded during his rescue attempt. She also didn't know who she would be bringing home. Would the elder Malfoys require sanctuary? Their son had never requested it, never made any indication that they would even accept anything like that. How would she handle bringing her daughter's true father, the man who had raped her, into this house? Would she even be able function when she saw him again?

She wasn't even sure who she would be bringing with her on her mission. Perhaps it would be easiest to go alone, but then what would happen if the targets were injured? Or if she became injured? How would she get everyone back here safely? She didn't want to endanger anyone else, though. And she really wished she knew what was keeping Ginny with those herbs.

She lifted Arianna into her arms and walked her over to the bed. The heat from the fire was beginning to turn her cheeks red, and Hermione didn't want her to be uncomfortable. She wished she had not woken their daughter when she realized he was gone. She had hoped the feeling of dread that overcame her and roused her from sleep had just been the vestiges of a nightmare she couldn't remember. But when she had reached for him over Arianna, desperately trying to catch her breath and slow her heartbeat, she had nearly screamed as her hand met with nothing but air. She hadn't bothered searching the house, or even the rest of the room, because she _just knew_.

She was tucking Arianna in under the covers when she found it. A note, placed beneath his pillow. He had even taken the time to seal it with his signet ring. How long had he sat awake after she had fallen asleep? Her hands trembled as she carried it back over to the sofa in front of the fire. Smoothing a finger over the Malfoy family crest, she found that she was loathe to open it, terrified of what it might say. She didn't think she could handle a carefully worded goodbye.

That was where Ginny found her, hours later, the ingredients finally gathered: sitting on the sofa, clutching his unopened letter, and staring into the fire. With the sound of her name, Hermione lifted herself out of her seated position with some effort, placed the letter on the mantle, and turned to look at the redhead. She had made the decisions she needed to.

* * *

><p><em>Drip drip drip drip<em>. If he hadn't been grateful for the proof that he was still among the living, Draco would've gone crazy from the sound of the leaking..._whatever_ it was. His captors had cast a spell of darkness so complete, he wasn't entirely sure which cell he was in. And so he sat, in a meditative position, waiting. They would not keep him here forever.

* * *

><p>There was a heavy scent of burning geranium in the air as Hermione sat in the center of a summoning circle sketched from the enchanted bark of a winter maple, unknowingly mimicking Malfoy's meditative pose. On her left sat Ginny, the only person willingly coming on this mission with her. To her right was Tonks, chosen specifically for the familial knowledge she would have of Malfoy Manor, on orders from Moody to accompany her. Ginny had taken the time to give Hermione another massage so her joints and muscles would not lock up while they were attempting this rescue mission.<p>

_I hope he's alive._

The thought jarred her concentration, and she had to physically shake her head to clear it. These thoughts would do her no good now. She needed to focus. For Malfoy. For Arianna. For herself. As much as she hated to admit it, he was a part of her life now, and he always would be. If she had any say, she would not be leaving his daughter without a father.

With her head now clear, she began the chant necessary to begin the ancient magic. Almost instantly, it felt as though there was a string coming from her chest, pulling her towards some unknown destination. She wanted to reach out and take hold, pull Malfoy into her arms through their connection, but she knew movement at this point would ruin her hours of work. Tonks and Ginny slipped their hands into hers, creating a link that would allow her to carry them with her to wherever she was going.

The circle began to glow, the light blinding to those watching from the edges of the room. Hermione felt the floor fading from beneath her as she was wrapped in a warm breeze and silver sparks. The pull of the magic on her slightly aching joints caused her pain, but she did not stop her chanting. When she began to feel almost completely drained, she felt Ginny's hand tighten on her own, a show of silent support that bolstered her through the remaining bit of travel.

They landed roughly, wands drawn, although Hermione's was more than a little shaky. In front of them were two very surprised Death Eaters, in the full garb of robes and masks, obviously on official business with a limp body held between them. She sent a weak paralyzing spell at one of them, and even though they were caught off guard, there was not enough force behind it to do more than just put an uncomfortable tingling in the man's legs. Fortunately for her, Tonks and Ginny were at full strength and quickly saw to it that they were paralyzed and bound. Tonks was under orders to take as many prisoners as she could while ensuring the safety of the mission.

Now that the immediate danger was past, Hermione was able to risk a glance at the prone body now ungracefully slumped on the floor. While it was a Malfoy, it was not the one she was looking for. She rushed to Mrs. Malfoy's side, laying her out more comfortably before forcing her awake magically.

"Where is your son? I preformed the tracking spell correctly! I should've been sent to him." The woman looked at her with startlingly dark blue eyes. She looked lost – as if someone had taken away her sense of purpose.

"He is in the dungeon, probably directly below us," she wheezed.

"Tonks, stay with Mrs. Malfoy and these two, if you hear someone coming, leave immediately. Do not leave Mrs. Malfoy behind." She felt a strong grip on her wrist, and she almost cried out from the pain of it.

"They killed him. They killed my husband. They killed my Lucius." Her quiet sobs sounded weak and so unlike everything she had ever associated with the Malfoy family. Hermione closed her eyes, at once mournful and grateful. She would not have to worry about rescuing her rapist, then. "Miss Granger," she gasped when Hermione made to stand and walk away, "you cannot let them take my son from me. Not him, too."

"I will do everything in my power, Mrs. Malfoy." Without another word, she made her way towards a bookshelf she remembered from her previous escape, the one that would, hopefully, bring her to the dungeon and to a healthy and very much alive Malfoy.

* * *

><p>He had heard his mother's screams fade into the distance. There was only one thing in this world that could destroy his mother so completely that she would lose her composure in such a way. His father was dead. He had come back to lessen the punishment against those that had brought him into this world, and it had all been for naught. The man that had raised him, that had instilled in him lifelong lessons he would pass onto his children, was gone. Cut down for betraying the twisted, corrupted Dark Lord not once, but twice. He wondered how it had happened. Had it been quick and clean, an homage to his years as a loyal servant? Had they tortured him, perhaps tortured his wife in front of him? He prayed that was not the case, that his mother had been spared from both torture to herself and the mental anguish of seeing her husband's last painful minutes.<p>

It had come down to this. The Malfoys, reduced to nothing, for being overly ambitious and oh-so-certain in their superiority. Or perhaps not certain enough, if his father had seen fit to lower himself to a perverse half-breed to obtain power. How would his life been different if his father had not sworn loyalty to such a monster? If he had just been comfortable enough with himself, with his family, with his bloodline?

Hesitant footsteps echoed down the dungeon hall towards his cell. So they had come for him. Was his mother still alive? Had she been presented to the Dark Lord yet? If they considered his father traitor enough for death, he was not eager to meet the fate waiting for him.

There was an audible gasp and a feminine voice called out to her partner, rattling the door in frustration. Oh, how he wished he could see, to confirm what he suspected and feared. Surely she wasn't stupid enough to follow him, he had taken precautions! He had pleaded with her in the note! He had appealed to her most logical side, why would she not have listened to reason?

The door was blasted open, and he was grateful for the amount of soundproofing his ancestors had placed on the dungeons. Couldn't have prisoners ruining their evening meals and extravagant parties, after all. Cool hands he would recognize anywhere touched his face, cupping his chin and bringing his unseeing eyes to hers. He wondered what expression she had on her face. Fear? Worry? Anger?

"Malfoy? Can you hear me?"

"Of course I can. I'm blind, not deaf, woman." There was a snort in the doorway from her counterpart. Granger's hand smoothed over his forehead and he heard her murmur under her breath. As she stepped back and dropped her hands from his face, he allowed his head to slump forward until his chin hit his chest. He honestly could not see a way for this to end with all of them alive, especially if they had to lead him out to the apparation point like this. Although, he supposed, he would have to lead _them_ since they didn't even _know_ where the apparation point was on the grounds. _Truly the blind leading the blind_, he smirked.

The other person in the cell shifted towards him and he couldn't make out the words that Granger whispered to partner. When the person leaned in, and brought with her a faint smell roses, Draco placed her as the littlest Weasley. He had always hated the smell of roses on a woman. He felt her wand tip against his temple and wondered exactly what was happening. Surely Granger wouldn't have him killed just for being stupid enough to come back here? Clearly he was _not_ working for the Dark Lord.

He felt the tingle of magic flow from the wand to his head and his vision cleared. He shook his head in surprise. How had she done that? It was ancient dark magic they had placed on him; surely the Weasleys abhorred that kind of magic. When he opened his eyes again, he could see Granger was looking paler than usual, almost as pale as she had after his rescue attempt. His eyes traveled down her arm to where her hand was clasped in the redhead's, and indication that she had provided the magic to release him from the spell. Why hadn't she preformed it herself?

"She's weak, Malfoy. She's going to need your help," the girl closest to him whispered softly, so only he could hear. He wanted to ask her for more information, he wanted to know _why_ she looked ready to collapse at any moment, but he knew time was far too precious to them right now. Instead, he stood and slipped his arm around the bushy-haired mother of his child, and began to walk towards to dungeon exit.

"What is the plan? I have no wand."

She smiled up at him weakly before responding, "You don't need a wand, Malfoy."

"I still thought it warranted mentioning." More and more of her weight shifted onto Malfoy's supporting arm as they moved through the hall. They finally approached the stairs leading out when he looked at her closely, seeing if she was capable of making it up the stairs or if he should carry her. He hadn't yet made a determination when the wall at the top of the stairs shifted and let in an intense light he was not fully prepared for after his time spent in utter darkness.

Blinking heavily and shading his eyes with this free hand, he looked to the shadowed figure staring down at them. He immediately identified the long blonde hair and the graceful stance of someone once important in his life.

"Astoria, how lovely to see you. Were you on your way to visit?" he asked calmly as he gently stepped in front of Granger and moved his arm to keep her there.

"Draco, darling, of course I was. You must know how terribly horrendous I felt when I heard the news. To think they'd keep you down in the dungeons of your own home. I was coming to see to your...comfort." Her carefully modulated tones caused him to cringe inwardly. Everything about this woman was artifice, from her current contrived pose to appear slim and graceful to the trained pitch of her voice, which he knew could become as piercing as a fishmonger's wife's. "And who is this you've got with you?"

She spoke as if Granger was nothing more than a dog he had just acquired. He channeled the fury from this thought into the ultimate insult. "Astoria Malfoy, it gives me great pleasure to introduce you to Miss Hermione Granger, the mother of my child." He could see the barb hit home; not only had he socially placed Astoria below Granger, he had also commented on the fact that _she_ was still childless while _he_ had produced a progeny. He could feel Granger poke her head slightly around his body to look at the woman glaring down at them with her mouth open in shock.

"Ms. Malfoy, it is so nice to meet you. I fear I have heard almost nothing about you." He smothered his smirk at her very polite, very underhanded insults. She probably didn't even realize the gravest insult.

Astoria's mouth snapped shut. "It is _Mrs_. Malfoy, thank you very much."


	8. Chapter 8

**A Loose Connection  
><strong>Chapter 8  
>By: J. Green<p>

Her body was screaming in protest. They were so close to getting out and here was this woman, blocking their path to freedom. She did find it amusing, however, that Malfoy must be rubbing off on her, for she truly enjoyed the exchange of taunts she was having with this woman. As if she would be insulted that Malfoy was still married. They obviously cared very little about each other.

"Oh, how unfortunate for you to be still attached in such a way to this house of traitors. I'm not sure that is a connection I would boast of in your circles, dearest." _Zing_.

"You little bitch!" was the screeching reply, making Hermione wince.

She turned to Malfoy and stated with a sneering undertone, "Goodness, no wonder you never mentioned her. I would be embarrassed to be married to someone of such low breeding as well!" _ZingZing_. Yes, this was entirely too much fun. She felt Ginny move in close behind her and put a supportive hand on her back. They needed to wrap this up quickly; she was fading, despite her current bravado.

Hermione did her best to convey this message to Malfoy by putting her hand on his hip and squeezing. He seemed to understand, glancing back once at her before turning his full attention to the situation in front of him. "Well, as perfectly dreadful as this has been, I fear we must be on our way, Astoria. If you would kindly step aside."

Her wand was suddenly in his face, all pretenses of refinement and good upbringing pushed aside as she sneered up at him from her new position. Hermione felt a wave of fear pulse through her, but kept herself from clutching at him and causing a distraction. Instead, she slowly moved her hand to the wand holster on her leg, trying not to make any sudden movements. She may be weak and physically and magically drained, but she'd be damned before she let this fake bint of a woman do anything to her or her companions.

"The Dark Lord sent me to get you and I will not fail in my task."

"Why?" he sneered. "Afraid he'll choose a new whore to try to impregnate?" This bit of information surprised her. Voldemort was trying to create an heir? With Draco's wife?

"I am his chosen one! I _will_ bear the next Dark Lord."

"So eager, and yet that _thing_ you take to your bed is hardly human. I can't even imagine what you would bring into this world if his seed ever managed to take hold in your obviously barren womb." The wand was jammed into his neck hard enough that Malfoy rocked back slightly into Hermione. This was all the motivation she needed to whip her wand out and cast a stunning charm on the threatening woman. Fortunately, in her anger, she had summoned up enough power for it to actually work.

"Malfoy, grab her quick!" Ginny shouted behind her as her legs gave out. He twisted around fluidly and caught her before she landed on the cold stone beneath their feet.

"I might... I might need you to carry me the rest of the way," she whispered softly to him, too drained to be embarrassed by her weakness.

"Oh no, not again, Granger. You're _so_ heavy!" he smiled down softly at her. She couldn't respond as she stared into his grey eyes. She still couldn't believe she was seeing him again. She thought for sure he was dead. She tried to lift her arm up, to brush a stray piece of blond hair from his face, but her arm hadn't even gotten halfway there before it fell back to her side limply. "What is wrong with her?" he asked sharply as he turned to Ginny.

"The tracking charm, and the stress of the preparations, has left her pretty drained. She took three of us through the portal here." They began to move as she spoke, having finished binding and levitating the prone wife of Malfoy.

"D-don't talk about me...as if I'm not right h-here."

"Granger?" Malfoy looked down at her.

"Hm?" she acknowledged.

"Shut up." She tried to muster up indignation at his comment, but failed miserably, instead burrowing into his robes and praying for nothing else to go wrong. It was only a few minutes more before they met with the elder Mrs. Malfoy and Tonks, who had managed to capture three more Death Eaters between them. Five Death Eaters, one Dark Lord's mistress, and two rescues – not a bad haul for such an impromptu raid. Sadly, it wasn't likely for Voldemort to continue using Malfoy Manor as one of his headquarters, if they had the only three remaining Malfoys with them and two of them were considered traitors.

Malfoy indicated to his mother to lead the way. She was followed by Tonks, who levitated two Death Eaters and the younger Mrs. Malfoy in front of her, and then Ginny, who held the three Death Eaters in the air with her wand. Hopefully they wouldn't run into anyone on the way, for it was unlikely they would be able to fight and keep control of their prisoners. Hermione and Malfoy brought up the rear.

When the group was on the move, heading towards another false wall that would lead them to a passage to the outside, Malfoy leaned in close to her and whispered softly, "Thank you for saving my mother." She merely smiled in response and he hugged his arms tighter around her. It wasn't much longer before they were inside the relative safety of the walls of Malfoy Manor. The warmth of his arms clutched so tightly around her was slowly easing her pain, and she was finally able to reach her arms up and clasp them around his neck, positioning herself more comfortably with her head against his shoulder.

Her lips brushed against his neck as she whispered to him, "I'm so happy you're alive."

The deep timbre of his voice vibrated through his chest and into hers when he responded with, "I made a promise, didn't I?"

"One you were trying your damnedest to break."

"Such language! I'm shocked, Granger." She giggled softly in reply.

* * *

><p>He was about to ask her if she had read his letter, because her current actions would indicate that she had not, but before the question could leave his lips, he heard movement from the other side of the wall. Immediately, he touched a hand to Weasley's back, indicating the need for silence and a cessation of all movement. She passed along his unspoken message to the two women in front of her. They all turned to look at him, wondering what they could do to avoid being caught.<p>

Draco didn't hesitate before using Granger's wand to spell out the word "disillusion" in his neat, flowing script. He was grateful when the women didn't hesitate to cast the spells upon themselves and their prisoners as quietly as possible. He turned to look at Granger.

"I need to ask you something you might find extremely difficult."

"Anything," she breathed out, trying to cause little noise.

"Stand there and look as haughty and affronted as possible." After a moment of confused hesitation, she slowly pulled herself from his arms and stood on her own feet. He felt the loss immensely. Before he had time to analyze exactly why he was feeling that way, he wordlessly passed a hand in front of her, changing her form into the exact replica of his wife, down to the black silk robes and diamond earbobs.

She looked down at her hands, the jewels on her fingers and wrists, the perfectly manicured nails, before slowly reaching up to her face. He watched as the realization of what he had done hit her and her shocked expression turned into one of arrogant aloofness. _My little minx_, he thought to himself, smirking. He passed his hand over himself, changing into Rodolphus Lestrange, one of the Death Eaters currently under their control.

He opened the nearest hatch in the wall and peeked out, the look on his face one of fury. He recognized the two Death Eaters in front of him, but he couldn't place their names. He hoped he wouldn't need them.

"Honestly," he said in the gruffest voice he could manage, "could you two keep it down?"

"What's going on? Why are you in the walls? How did you get there?" Draco pulled his lips into what he hoped was a hungry smile as Hermione poked her head outside the opening as well.

"Are you quite finished?" she asked in a nasally voice as she looked down at her nails in a bored manner.

"L-l-lady Malfoy! So sorry to disturb you!" The Death Eaters gave each other knowing looks before turning back to Draco and stating, "We'll just be on our way." He nodded slightly and shut the wall again, turning immediately to capture Granger in his arms before she could lose her footing. He dissolved the illusion from her body and pressed a finger to her lips, listening at the wall for sounds of the men moving away. When he was satisfied that they were leaving them and not sounding the alarm, he sent a silent _thank you_ to the gods that his wife was such a whore, nobody thought twice about her being with someone else in the bowels of the house.

Glancing down at Granger, he realized how close their faces were and all he could think about was how much he wanted to finally kiss her. Her lips looked soft and inviting, quivering slightly as he stared intensely at them. He moved the finger already on them, using it to outline their shape.

"Malfoy," she whispered as he leaned in closer. He paused a moment and looked up at her eyes. There was a hint of amusement in their brown depths before she said, "You haven't changed."

At first, he was affronted. Hadn't changed? Hadn't he defied the Dark Lord and done everything he thought necessary to ensure the safety and health of both her and their daughter? Last time he checked, their previous interactions were nothing like they were now. It wasn't until she reached up and tugged on the short black hair by his ear that he realized what she meant. Feeling himself flush, he dissolved the spell.

Someone cleared her throat, breaking the connection between him and Granger, and forcing him back into the reality of their current situation.

"Let's get out of here quickly," he stated, scooping Granger's legs up and carrying her towards the rest of their party. They reached the outer wall without any more mishaps, and Draco had never been so glad to see the moon.

As they all spilled out into the yard, the elder Mrs. Malfoy stated, "The apparation point is just beyond the fence to our left. It will be tricky to get there with so many of us."

"Mother, take Granger and go to Grimmauld Place first. She needs medical attention immediately." The arms around his neck tightened, forcing his head down to look at her.

"No," she stated firmly.

"There will be no arguments, Granger. There are four people in this world I give a bloody rat's arse about. One of them is dead and I will not risk the lives of two others for selfish reasons, especially when the last one is waiting at home for you." The tears in her eyes were ripping him up inside, but he forced his face into its impassive mask, determined to put his foot down. Without another word, he gently handed her weak body over to his mother's arms. If she felt at all burdened by the weight, she didn't act like it before she turned and ran for the apparation point.

When his mother and Granger disappeared from his sight, he indicated that Weasley and her prisoners should go next. "Remember," he said before she walked away, "transport them with you one at a time, come back for the others only after you've dropped one off." He didn't want the stupid girl splinching herself trying to side-along-apparate three others with her in her eagerness to be home. When the redhead disapparated the third time, he sent his cousin on her way with two of the prisoners. All that was left was his wife, and he planned on transferring her himself.

Levitating her while she was still in her immobile state, Draco couldn't resist taunting her. "She's pretty amazing, isn't she? Granger, I mean. She's been physically and mentally weak since the last time she was imprisoned here, some curse we've yet to figure out, and yet here she is, still powerful enough to bring _three_ people here through that ancient portal spell. The one you could never be bothered with learning. The one I _just_ taught her a week ago!"

He continued his leisurely pace, hoping that someone would come after them and he'd have an excuse to not bring his wife back to Grimmauld Place alive. "You should see our daughter. She's truly a beauty: long, curly blonde hair, the Malfoy eyes, so polite. Everything I could ever want. It was comforting to find out the source of our problems was not me," he glanced down at her, taking in her glaring green eyes, and smiled evilly. "I'm so proud of you for spreading your legs to every willing male in that household. We probably would not have gotten out otherwise. Thank Merlin we never had children! I can't imagine a daughter that took after you; I'd have a murder list a mile long!"

He glanced back at his childhood home when they reached the apparation point, but there were no sounds of alarms, no incoming Death Eaters. It looked almost as he had remembered growing up. It was insulting to think that a psychotic halfblood had infected it with his filth. He couldn't wait to get back in there and brighten the hallways with laughter and children playing once again. His children. The thought made his chest swell with longing. Children to carry on the Malfoy name, truly the last of the noble lines.

With that thought in his mind, he spun in a circle and disapparated with a _pop_. It was only a matter of moments before he found himself wrapped in two pairs of arms.

* * *

><p>She had been avoiding him, shunting aside her natural Gryffindor bravery and changing the pattern they had comfortably fallen into before his last trip to Malfoy Manor. She had been unable to control her tears when he wrapped one arm around her and one around their daughter upon his return, soaking his stained and torn robes, ruining them further. He had taken so long after Tonks' last trip, she thought for sure he had been captured and killed and was almost to the point of apparating back herself until Mrs. Malfoy stopped her and told her to have faith.<p>

She watched him from the window, currently playing with Arianna in the yard, simply staring at him with an ache in her chest she couldn't describe or explain. He never glanced toward her rooms, never tried to approach her if he happened to come into a room she was already in, never questioned why she refused to answer him if he spoke to her. He didn't need her anymore, and they both knew it.

She was finally regaining her old strength, choosing to rub in the lotion created by Malfoy herself, forgoing help from anyone. But inside, she felt weak and broken. Unable to stomach the sight of him laughing with their daughter another minute, she turned from the window and approached her fireplace. She had his letter in her hand, the one he had written before leaving her. The wax seal remained unbroken and, despite how many times she had held it in her hands, the parchment remained unwrinkled. It looked almost as if he had just handed it to her. She wanted nothing more than to throw it into the blazing flames in front of her.

She was disgusted with herself. How could she be pining for arrogant prick she didn't even like? Someone whose only connection to her was a daughter he claimed for his own? She stomped her way back to the window, determined to glare holes into the back of his blond head. When she was presented with no one outside her window any longer, she slammed her hand into the glass in frustration. She needed to get over this...this...whatever it was! She was stronger than this!

The door to her room clicked open, and she slumped against the window, the coolness against her forehead calming her anger. She didn't want her daughter to see her this way. Forcing a bright smile on her face, she spun around to greet the little girl only to see the man who had been tormenting her with his indifference for these last weeks. She felt frozen as he closed and locked the door behind himself.

"What are you doing here?" she asked with more cool confidence than she felt.

"I'm done with your bullshit, Granger," came the equally cool reply. The anger rushed back, staining her cheeks with redness. "I've waited for you to get over whatever it is you're going through and I can't wait any longer. I'm a Malfoy, I have standards."

Yes, he had standards, and they did not include mudbloods like her. She turned without responding, compelling the tears to remain in her eyes and off her face, the letter dropped and forgotten on the floor. She wished she could order him from the room, from her life, but she didn't trust her voice to remain steady enough to hide her hurt.

She could hear his footsteps as he stomped his way towards her, growling, "No, you will _not_ turn away from me. I will not stand for it." When he reached her, he grabbed her arm and forced her around to face him, giving her no room for protest before his lips crashed into hers. In shock, she didn't react when he pushed her back, his lips never leaving hers, until she was against the window with no way of escaping. He threw her further off balance by lifting her slightly off the ground, causing her to flail before gripping his shoulders and hooking one of her legs around his hip.

She assumed that she was where he wanted her, because his bruising kiss gentled and he began to tease the crease of her lips with his tongue. Without hesitation, she opened for him and began to pour all her frustrations into their battle of tongues. When he finally broke away to let her breathe, her nose inhaling the mint and musk scent she knew so well, he peppered small, moist kisses all over her face and neck.

"I've wanted to do that for some time now," he whispered against her neck, his soft lips sending shivers throughout her body.

"Why didn't you?" she asked breathlessly.

He looked up at her from beneath his eyelashes and responded almost shyly, "I wasn't sure you wanted me to."

Looking at him in confusion, she questioned, "What made you think I wanted you to now?"

"I didn't know if you did or not, but I knew I couldn't wait around for you to make the decision any longer." His fingers trailed up her side, brushing slightly against her breast and causing her to shiver again, before reaching her face and stroking her cheek. "I understand if you don't want me. I'm an egotistical prat who only cares about himself."

She squeezed his shoulders, saying, "You're not. Well, you _are_ an egotistical prat, but you don't only care about yourself. I respect you for everything you've done for me, for Arianna."

"And I you."

"Even though I'm a filthy mudblood who can't seem to control her hair or her mouth?"

"Yes, despite all that. Or maybe because of it. I just don't know anymore."

It wasn't much to go on, but she was smiling anyway as she pulled him in for another snogging session. Who knew if this thing would work out between them – they didn't even like each other very much! But they had an unbreakable mutual respect, more lust between them than she knew what to do with, and a wonderful daughter they both loved above all else. It might not be love now, but it could very well be one day.

**Fin.**

**A/N: **I know I said I would only do the one at the beginning, but I felt the need to apologize for the lateness of this chapter. I had mistimed my updates, and the last two Fridays I have been on vacation, unable to update the story with this final chapter. I hope that it was worth the wait. Thank you everyone who has reviewed a chapter/s, fav'd the story, or put me on their alert list. I truly appreciate everyone who has read this little scribbling and I hope to continue to see you all read my future stories.


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